The Enemy Within
by lisakodysam
Summary: The tormented Knight-Commander Cullen rules the Circle Tower with cruelty, and commands fear. A ghost from his past who haunts his dreams returns to the Tower, threatening his tenuous grip on his sanity. Themes of violence, torture, sex, angst. Very dark.
1. A monster is created

**This story was meant to be a one-shot written for my friend, Nithu, but it has run away with me and has now developed into a full-length story! So, Nithu, I'm loving you for your wonderful idea, but cursing you in equal measure for making me commit to another long story! :P**

**Jen, thank you from the bottom of my heart for being a true friend, and excellent Beta Reader! Love you!**

**This story is going to get very dark, so be warned.**

**~O~**

"_I __**will**__ break you, Templar!" Uldred sneered maliciously. "The only question is, how long it will take for the cracks to appear? But I don't mind waiting," the blood mage whispered, edging closer to the magical field that trapped his victim within. "In fact," he groaned, almost sexually, "it makes my conquest all the more…pleasurable."_

_Cullen fell to his knees and clasped his hands together tightly, desperately reciting the Chant of Light, and squeezing his eyes closed to block out the sight of the Templar corpses strewn around him. His friends. His brothers. Try as he might, however, he could not block out the sound of Uldred's mocking laughter as he ascended the steps to the Harrowing Chamber._

_Cullen raised his voice to shut out the screams coming from the floor above. "Maker, though the darkness comes upon me, I shall embrace the light. I shall weather the storm. I shall endure…"_

"_Cullen?" A quiet, hesitant voice spoke. "Oh, Cullen, it is you! Thank the Maker you're alive!"_

_Cullen broke his prayer and looked up in fear and trepidation. His mouth fell open as he rose to his feet. A red-headed elven mage stood outside the magical field. "Gabby?" he said shakily. "Is that really you?"_

"_Yes, it is I," she confirmed, gazing at Cullen as tears spilled down her cheeks. "Have they hurt you?" _

"_No," he replied, "although they have tried." He looked at her longingly for a moment and let out a ragged sigh. "Gabby," he whispered," you have to get out of here. Uldred will return at any moment."_

"_No," she replied firmly. "Not without you." She examined the magical field and touched it, her hand passing straight through. "It seems this is a one-way field," she explained. "One could enter, but they could not get out."_

_Cullen removed one of his gauntlets and took her hand, bringing it to his lips and softly kissing it. "If only things could have been different, Gabby…" he murmured, his voice quaking with longing and bitter regret._

_Gabby grasped his hand and stepped through the field, trapping herself inside with Cullen._

"_Maker!" he cried. "What are you doing? Now you're trapped as well!"_

"_It matters not," she said fatalistically, looking up at him with sad green eyes. "There is no escape for either of us; you know this. If this is to be my final day, I wish it to be at your side."_

"_But, Gabby…" he whispered, gulping heavily as he tried, and failed, to keep his tears at bay._

_Gabby moved closer to him and laid her head on his shoulder. He brought his arms around her and they held each other, thinking of what might have been, as he breathed in the scent of mint and lemon from her hair._

_She looked up at him and gently grasped his chin as he shyly hung his head down, tilting his head upwards. "I-I love you, Cullen," she admitted. "I may as well tell you now. I know it's forbidden for us to be together, but I can't help the way I feel."_

_Cullen stared at her, wide-eyed, his mouth slack. "You…you love me?"_

_Gabby nodded her head slowly, fresh tears coursing down her face. "More than anything," she replied with keen longing in her eyes. "I wish we could have been…together before we __die__," she whispered, taking his face in her hands._

_"B-but…it's not allowed," Cullen protested weakly. "I…I've sworn to dedicate myself to the Maker, forsaking all others."_

"_And where has that got you, Cullen?" she replied with bitterness in her voice. "What has dedicating yourself to the Maker got you? I'll tell you what," she said firmly. "Loneliness, regret and a premature death. Where is the Maker now?" she cried. "Why hasn't He saved us?"_

"_The Maker is omnipresent," Cullen justified. "He sees all. He will exact justice on those who wrong us."_

"_And how does that help us?" she cried angrily. "Isn't the Maker also omnipotent? Why isn't He stopping this? Face it, Cullen - there is no Maker!" _

"_Please," Cullen pleaded as he clasped her arms, the contact making him breathe shakily. "Do not let your fear make you bitter. If we are to meet our end, we must do so with a full and compassionate heart." He paused and took a deep breath. "And I know your heart to be compassionate, Gabby," he added. "That is why I…" He hung his head down and exhaled._

"_Please," Gabby whispered softly, "continue."_

_He raised his head and for the first time, really looked at her. Her ivory, heart-shaped face was framed by titian red hair that cascaded in waves down her shoulders. __Her eyes, kind and forgiving, were a deep forest green with flecks of amber. He__ looked at her lips, set in a perfect cupid's bow, and wondered how they would feel against his. "You're so beautiful," he said with conviction. "And, Maker help me, I've admired you since first I laid eyes upon you."_

"_You think I'm beautiful?" she asked and laughed softly, shyly biting her lip. "Nobody has ever said that to me before."_

"_I find that hard to believe," he mumbled, blushing furiously, his eyes once again cast downwards._

"_Cullen," she said nervously, "make me feel beautiful. Let us feel love for once in our lives before they end." She took his hands and gently pulled him downwards, placing a whisper-soft kiss on his lips. "Please."_

"_I-I…" he stuttered, as he broke into a sweat and heat poured off him. "I've…never…"_

"_Then I would be honoured to be your first, Cullen," she replied, releasing his hands and sitting down on the floor. "Please, Cullen," she asked softly, holding her hand out to him, "lay down with me."_

_Cullen gulped, took her hand and knelt awkwardly beside her. Gabby began undoing the straps holding his armour in place, and he raised his arms as she lifted his heavy breastplate above his head, leaving only his chainmail. "That's better," she said with a smile, "now you can actually move." She began to pull up her robes, but Cullen's hand grabbed hers, stopping her._

"_No, we mustn't," he said sadly, shaking his head._

"_What do you mean?" Gabby replied sharply._

"_I-I can't do this," he mumbled apologetically. "It would be a sin against the Maker."_

"_You can't just lead me on then say no!" she yelled._

"_Gabby?" he asked fearfully. "What's got into you?"_

_Gabby grabbed his shoulders and pushed him onto his back with surprising force. Clambering atop him, she pinned his arms in place against the floor. Weakened by his incarceration, he fought desperately to free himself, but she proved too strong for him. She leaned down to meet his face._

"_This is what you want, Cullen," she growled, a pale light in her eyes that paralysed him with fear. "I can feel it!" she laughed, grinding herself against his erection._

"_Gabby, please – don't…" he pleaded._

_She released his arms from her grip and hastily removed his codpiece, tossing it aside as she released him from his smallclothes._

"_What have you done!" Cullen cried, his voice bright with panic. "I can't move!"_

"_You're mine, now, my pet," she sneered, pushing aside her smallclothes and roughly introducing herself to him. Cullen's eyes bulged as he uttered an anguished cry._

"_Does it hurt?" she asked with mock concern as she gyrated._

"_Please!" he begged, "please stop! Gabby…__I__ don't want it to be like this!"_

_She stopped, and for a moment, Cullen thought she had reconsidered her actions, but could only watch in horror and panic as she lifted her robe above her head, discarding it to the side of her. She was naked beneath._

_He gasped at the sight of her, and instinctively averted his eyes, but it was too late; he'd already seen her. In spite of his fear and discomfort, he felt an involuntary stirring deep in his belly. She threw her head back and laughed as she bounced up and down. Cullen lay back and closed his eyes, hoping for it to be over quickly. _

_Much to Cullen's relief, it ended __abruptly__, thanks to his lack of experience. He lay back, panting heavily, his eyes still firmly closed. A tear ran down his face as deep shame and emptiness overwhelmed him. He couldn't look at her. He had never felt so used or wretched in his entire life._

"_Cullen?" she teased, running a sharp fingernail down his chest._

_His blood turned to ice as he heard a second, deeper voice speaking alongside that of Gabby's. His hands shook as he opened his eyes, terrified of what he would see._

_Sitting__ atop him was a woman who was not Gabby. As his eyes travelled upward, he saw mottled, pale grey skin, a fanged smile. Seeing his reaction, she laughed again, the very sound of it an assault on his ears. He stared in terror as she brought her pale, purple-horned head nearer to his._

"_I was honoured to be your first, Cullen," she purred malevolently. "And the mage whore was correct – there __**is **__no Maker!"_

"No! Please! Not again! Maker help me!"

"Knight-Commander?"

He was in darkness, the only sound his frantic breathing.

Several heavy thuds sounded against wood. "Knight-Commander! Are you alright?"

Light flooded in as his door was thrust open and a Templar rushed in, his sword drawn.

Cullen, startled, sprang up into a sitting position. "How dare you enter my quarters without my leave!" he yelled.

"B-but, Knight-Commander," the Templar said hesitantly. "We heard you shouting…"

"GET OUT!" Cullen bellowed.

"Y-yes, Ser," the Templar stammered and withdrew, closing the door behind him.

Cullen listened as the sounds of quiet muttering and clanking footsteps grew quieter, then ceased. He reached out in the darkness for his ever-present rum, and swigged directly from the bottle. He set it down clumsily and it fell to the floor, smashing and releasing a cloying, spicy fragrance.

He was still painfully erect, and his brows knitted together as he grasped his cock. "Gabby…" he whimpered as he roughly relieved himself of his predicament.

He sighed wearily and lay back down, pulling the covers over his head. His shoulders shook and his hands balled into fists. "Maker, forgive me!" he vociferated as he wept long and bitterly; fatigue and weakness eventually overcoming him as his eyes rolled back in his head and finally closed.

~O~

"_Kill them."_

_He was back in the magical cage, surrounded by five of his fellow Templars, all held in place with a paralysis spell. He looked down and saw he held a dagger in his hand._

"_I said, kill them."_

_Mortal terror seized Cullen; his body began to move and he realised he had no control over it. He walked toward one of his friends, Ser Rice, and raised his arm, bringing the dagger to the Templar's throat. He screamed inside his head as the knife bit into flesh and plunged and twisted; Ser Rice's gurgled shrieking forever and irrevocably burned into his mind. He moved along to the next Templar and slowly dragged the dagger across his windpipe, evoking an horrific sputtering sound as blood met exhaled air and sprayed Cullen's face; not killing the Templar outright, but ensuring a slow and excruciating death._

_As he finished off the last of his friends, the only evidence of Cullen's internal feelings were the sweat and tears that soaked his otherwise blank and slack face. The Templars lay twitching, gurgling and gasping on the floor, begging him to release them from their agony._

"_There's a good little Templar," Uldred mocked, reaching through the cage and snatching the dagger from Cullen's fingers._

_With control of his body returned to him, Cullen surveyed the carnage done by his own hand. His skin burned and saliva flooded his mouth as his stomach lurched. He fell to the floor, retching piteously, bringing up phlegm and bile; his stomach was empty, as he had been starved for two days._

"_He is almost ready," Uldred said to an unseen person._

He awoke again in darkness, although this time he knew where he was, as the Templar dream…the Templar _memory_ was a nightly occurrence, something he expected. The dream…memory…of Gabby only came to him occasionally, however; but recently it had occurred with more regularity, and it disturbed him greatly.

He swung his legs around and threw back his covers. He stood up and stripped naked, throwing his sweat-soaked nightshirt to the floor. He walked over to the window for some air, letting forth a blood-curdling shriek as he trod on several shards of broken glass. He hopped backwards, collapsing onto his bed.

His door flew open again, and his second-in command, Ser Smyth entered, carrying a torch. "Fetch a healer! Immediately!" he yelled to another Templar stood outside.

"NO!" Cullen shouted. "I've told you before, man! No magic!"

"Knight-Commander," Smyth said firmly. "You _must _have healing magic!"

"I said NO!" Cullen yelled incoherently. "I won't have one of those devils touching me!"

Stepping forward, Ser Smyth grasped the back of Cullen's head. "Forgive me, Knight-Commander," he said sadly. Colours and lights exploded in Cullen's vision as a gauntlet-clad fist met him squarely between the eyes. He saw no more.

Ser Smyth looked balefully upon his superior as a healing mage was ushered into the room. Cullen was the first ever Knight-Commander to be appointed a second; the Grand Cleric had thought it prudent after Cullen's hushed-up suicide attempt not long after his appointment two months ago.

Although he thought Cullen a sadistic bastard, it was at moments like this that Smyth truly pitied him, and wondered if he would have fared better had their lives been exchanged.

"Put him to sleep," Smyth instructed the mage. "He has a lot to do tomorrow, and will need to be at full strength." He turned to leave the room and shook his head. "Three floggings this time," he muttered to himself.

"Somebody clean up that broken glass," he instructed. "And not a word of this to anyone, understand?"

"Understood, Ser," replied the other Templar. The mage nodded wearily.


	2. A window into torment

**I was absolutely staggered with the reviews I had for this story! I really didn't think it would be everyone's cup of tea, and didn't expect the response I had! So, a heartfelt thank you to everyone who reviewed – you've made my week! :D Also, thank you to everyone who story-alerted or favourited!**

**Apologies to anyone following 'Human Nature' – it will be updated soon, I just had to get this second chapter out of my system first.**

**To my darling friend and beta-reader Jen, thank you for everything (you know what)!**

**~O~**

Cullen washed and dressed as soon as he woke the next morning and made his way downstairs to his office. He always rose early, before the sun came up, as the Tower was still quiet at that time, and he wouldn't see too many of _them_. Although it didn't really matter whether or not he saw them - as they weren't real – he wasn't taking any chances.

He found Ser Smyth sitting at his desk, and his second-in command rose quickly, gesturing for Cullen to sit down. "My apologies, Knight-Commander," he said as he moved away from Cullen's desk. "I was just catching up on some paperwork. Please, have your desk back."

Cullen eyed him warily. "You've been up all night?" he asked suspiciously.

"Not all night, Ser," Smyth explained. "Just since…well, for a few hours, that's all." Smyth resisted the impulse to ask Cullen how his foot and nose were faring. The healer had done a good job; there was no evidence of bruising or swelling to Cullen's face, and Smyth was unsure as to whether Cullen even remembered the events that had occurred earlier that night.

Cullen took his seat and Smyth stood in front of the desk, standing stiffly with his hands clasped behind his back. "What are your orders for the coming day, Knight-Commander?" he asked.

"Make preparations for the floggings," Cullen commanded.

Smyth took a deep breath and exhaled. "Ser, about that…" he began, then hesitated.

"Do you have something to say, Knight-Lieutenant?" Cullen asked sharply.

"Ser," Smyth began, "there is little evidence that those men fraternised with any of the mages, and that which does exist is flimsy and circumstantial at best."

Cullen rose to his feet and placed his palms down on the desk. "_I_ believe that they fraternised," he said quietly, though his eyes were blazing, "and that is all the evidence I need."

"Ser," Smyth continued, "those men are good soldiers, and are dedicated to the Maker. They would not make the same mistake as…" he stopped abruptly, cursing himself for his carelessness.

Cullen walked around his desk and stood toe-to-toe with Smyth. "The same mistake as whom?" he rasped.

"Knight-Commander, I…"

"Come on, man!" Cullen spat. "Out with it!"

"Alright," Smyth replied quietly, unable to meet Cullen's intense gaze. "Some of the men are aware of what happened here before your appointment," he said carefully. "Of your…friendship with one of the mages."

Cullen turned away and leaned on his desk with one hand. "Some of the men _think _they know what happened," he said quietly, although a menacing tone had crept into his voice. "I will never allow such a thing to happen again," he vowed, turning to face Smyth. "Those…those wretched heathens are always watching, waiting, for a sign of weakness…and then…" Cullen fell quiet and paced back and forth.

"This is for their own good!" he shouted suddenly. "Never will I allow one of my men to become close to those…" he shook his head and his mouth twisted in disgust, loath to even acknowledge the mages' existence.

"They have to learn!" he continued. "Knight-Commander Greagoir made that mistake – he took off with one of the females after Uld…after the Tower was taken over, and Maker knows what fate has befallen him," Cullen said fearfully as he stared at the wall, his eyes wide. "He could be an abomination or a blood thrall by now!"

"I agree, Ser, that the men should not be too friendly with the mages," Smyth concurred, "but surely there is a better way to get the message across…"

"Are you questioning me?" Cullen uttered with barely-contained ire as he glared at Smyth from his desk, his nostrils flaring.

Smyth swallowed hard and stood up straight once more, staring dead ahead. "Yes, Ser," he said plainly. "I am, Ser."

Cullen paused for a moment, unsure of how to respond. "Make the preparations," he said coldly, "and I want every available man to attend."

"Yes, Ser," Smyth replied flatly, crossed his arms and bowed, and exited the room, closing the door behind him. He leaned against it, closed his eyes and exhaled.

Most of the other Templars were astonished at the relationship between Cullen and Smyth. Cullen had been known to have his men thrown in the cells for a week just for looking at him sideways, and yet Smyth was the only one who ever stood up to him – sometimes quite vigorously – yet he had never been punished.

Smyth had noticed a change in Cullen recently. He seemed to have become more willing to listen to reason – a month ago that conversation wouldn't even have taken place – so Smyth had resolved to see how far he could go with Cullen. During the past week, he had managed to talk Cullen down from some actions, although he knew that today there would be no reasoning with him, as the Commander had had a rough night. Smyth had heard from one of the other Templars that Cullen had been crying out in his sleep again.

'Gabby.' Smyth surmised this was the mage with whom Cullen had been friendly. Although he didn't know exactly what Uldred and the demons had done to him, he had read a report stating that Cullen had been found semi-conscious in a magical cage, naked from the waist down, mumbling her name. It wasn't difficult for Smyth to put two and two together.

He'd read another report stating that Uldred had been vanquished by two Grey Wardens: Alistair Therein – now King of Ferelden – and Gabrielle Surana, who had ultimately freed Cullen. Smyth had done some digging and had determined that Gabrielle Surana originally came from the Circle Tower, and was on friendly terms with Cullen when she had lived there.

Although Smyth didn't know of everything that had befallen Cullen during his incarceration, he knew a lot more than anyone else in Tower, and as a result felt some empathy toward him. Although at times Cullen's cruelty took his breath away, Smyth found it difficult to truly hate him, and the two of them seemed to share an unspoken understanding.

~O~

"Can't say I'm looking forward to seeing Greagoir again," muttered the Warden-Commander of Ferelden, as she and her fellow Warden rode along the North Road. They were on their way to the Circle Tower with the intention of recruiting mages for the Grey Wardens. They were approximately half a days' travel away, and anticipated reaching the Tower by late afternoon. The Tower was already visible in the distance to the south-west.

"Don't you think you should have warned him of our arrival?" her companion asked with a smirk. "A letter, perhaps? Wouldn't that have been the polite thing to do?"

"Yes, it would, Nathaniel," she replied, "but Greagoir was never polite to me, so I don't see why I should extend any courtesy his way."

The perceptive Howe raised an eyebrow. "And?" he asked slyly.

"_And_," she replied, visibly bouncing in the saddle with glee, "I can't wait to see the look on his face when he realises who the new Warden-Commander is, and that I can conscript mages _and _Templars from under his nose!"

"Don't forget the diabolical laugh, Commander," Nathaniel grinned.

"Oh, I'm saving that for Greagoir," she chuckled. "And I've told you, you can call me Gabby when we're not in polite company."

"But not in front of Greagoir, I take it?" he replied.

"_Oh_, no," she said emphatically, shaking her head. "I want the full works in front of him. 'Warden-Commander and Hero of Ferelden, slayer of the Archdemon, Champion of Redcliffe, finder of the Sacred Ashes, scourge of darkspawn, liberator of Nathaniel Howe and co-slayer of the Mother.' How does that sound?"

"Pompous and overblown," he replied, laughing, "but I like the 'liberator of Nathaniel Howe' part."

"Perfect," she said approvingly. "Let's just leave the 'Mistress of the King' bit out though, shall we?" she added wryly with a sigh.

They fell quiet for a few moments. Nathaniel knew her real reason for visiting the Tower. She didn't have to go; she could have sent him, Anders or Oghren alone, but he guessed that she wanted to put as much distance between herself and Denerim as possible, after the announcement of King Alistair's betrothal to Elissa Cousland.

"Are you alright, Gabby?" he ventured cautiously.

Gabby nodded quickly, forcing a grin that did not reach her eyes.

"You know," Nathaniel said softly, "if you ever want to talk to anyone…"

"I know," she replied, touching his arm. "Thank you," she said with a genuine smile.

~O~

Cullen drained his hip flask and crammed some mint leaves into his mouth, wincing at the taste. He started to sweat and felt panic fluttering in his chest at the thought of what he was about to do.

_It __**must **__be done! _His inner voice told him. _It's for their own good! They'll thank me for it when those bastards try to take the Tower over again! They'll be strong and will be able to resist!_

_Unlike me,_ he thought to himself. He thought back to the time he was rescued from Uldred's grip, staring at his desk as he remembered Gabby sitting on the floor with him, cradling his head against her chest as he wept.

_I told her though, didn't I? _He thought, nodding his head. _She thought she could inveigle her way back into my mind, but I showed her! I made her cry with what I said to her!_

"I made her cry," he said out loud, laughing bitterly, his brow creasing as his stomach lurched and he felt a sting in the back of his throat. He sat there for a moment, trying to steady his breathing.

_It doesn't matter. She's not real._

He rose to his feet and approached the door, wiping sweat from his brow with his handkerchief. Taking a deep breath, he exited his office and made his way down the corridor toward the training yard. It was late morning and the first floor buzzed with activity. As he negotiated the corridor, he saw fellow Templars stationed at their posts, tranquil mages and civilians going about their daily business.

And he saw _them_. He had tried so hard to deny their existence over the past few months that they were nothing but wraiths to him now; they floated silently past in their brightly-coloured robes, as insubstantial and ephemeral as a dream.

_They're not real._

He reached the training yard to find Ser Smyth and several other off-duty Templars waiting. At the end of the yard stood three men, stripped to the waist and tied to wooden stakes with their backs to the small crowd.

Cullen walked over to a small plinth and picked up the Cat O' Nine Tails. He shook it out a few times and ran his finger and thumb down each strand of leather, ensuring they were separated. He laid the strands over his hand and stared at them for a few moments. Several of the Templars exchanged glances and shifted their weight.

He took another deep breath and walked into the centre of the yard. "Now, listen to me!" he shouted, addressing his fellow Templars. "You have to learn that fraternising with the enemy is a sin against the Maker, and against common decency! These men," he said, pointing to the three who were tied up, "are known to be in collusion with those…_devils_, the very ones the Maker has sent _us _to protect the rest of civilised society from!"

Cullen paced back and forth, addressing each and every Templar assembled. "You must not let them inside your head!" he continued, prodding his temple with a finger. "They are deceitful, cunning and seductive. They will approach you in the form of a friend, but all the time they are draining you – consuming your soul while they smile at you!" he ranted.

Ser Smyth approached Cullen and spoke quietly. "Why don't you let me do that, Ser?" he offered, knowing that he would be gentler with the barbed whip than would Cullen.

"If you want to be Knight-Commander so fervently, Ser, why do you not petition the Grand Cleric?" Cullen snapped. "I never asked for this position in the first place," he seethed quietly. "It was forced upon me, and it was made very clear to me that the only way I could purge my sin was to serve the Templars and the Tower for the rest of my life, such as it is," he whispered through gritted teeth.

"Life?" he intoned, "this is nothing more than a living death."

Ser Smyth took a step back from Cullen, dismayed at his words. Never before had the Knight-Commander shown his feelings to him in this way. His stomach knotted and his heart raced as Cullen walked toward the three restrained men.

"This is what happens when you consort with devils!" Cullen cried, raising the Cat O' Nine Tails aloft. "You will receive the Maker's punishment, and you will thank Him for it!"

Ser Smyth winced and squeezed his eyes shut as Cullen began to flay one of the men's backs. The Templar's screams echoed around the yard then fell flat against the cold, damp air. Several Templars turned their backs, unable to watch. Ser Smyth hastily told them to turn around, and to look at the ground instead.

"Thank the Maker you are being delivered from evil, Ser!" Cullen cried as he moved onto the next man, delivering the standard three lashes.

Ser Smyth and the other Templars stood, horrified and sickened, as Cullen moved onto the third and final man. Smyth knew that the worst was yet to come, as the third man, Ser Magnusson, had been caught in an embrace with a male apprentice.

"You, Ser, have sinned doubly," Cullen panted, perspiring heavily, "and shall receive the harshest punishment of all! Ten licks of the Cat!"

The Templars gasped and muttered amongst themselves. Never before had anyone received more than three lashes.

"Ser Smyth!" one of the Templars cried. "You have to put a stop to this!"

"And what good would that do?" another Templar replied. "Smyth will just get the same, and it will make things worse for Magnusson!"

"You will thank me for this one day!" Cullen yelled as he viciously flogged Ser Magnusson. After eight lashes Ser Smyth could take no more and ran over to Cullen.

"I think he has learned his lesson, Ser," Smyth said as Ser Magnusson slid down the stake to the ground.

"Yes," Cullen panted as he stared at Magnusson's prone form. "Get a healer," he commanded.

"What, really?" Ser Smyth replied incredulously. "Y-yes, Ser! Fetch a healer! At once!" he yelled. Two Templars ran out of the yard as quickly as they could.

"I-I'll be in my office," Cullen murmured, letting the Cat O' Nine Tails fall to the ground as he took his leave of the training yard.

"Very good, Ser," Smyth replied as two healing mages were brought into the square.

One of the Templars charged up to Smyth after Cullen had left. "Healers?" he shouted angrily. "I didn't get a healer when I was flogged three weeks ago! It wasn't until a week ago that I could bend over! The capricious prick!"

"You will keep a civil tongue in your head, Ser!" Ser Smyth remonstrated angrily.

"But, Knight-Lieutenant…" the Templar protested.

"You speak of your Knight-Commander, Ser, and will treat his office with respect!" Smyth replied. "You are all dismissed!" he shouted.

As the Templars left the yard, muttering and cursing, Ser Smyth stared into the distance, lost in thought. He had seen a window into Cullen's torment today that he had never expected the Knight-Commander to reveal. As he walked over to the healers, he silently wished that he could have killed Uldred himself.

"How fare they?" he asked.

One of the mages did not answer; the other looked up angrily. "These two will recover," he said tersely, "but him," he said, pointing to Ser Magnusson, "we can't do anything for. His heart must have given out."

Ser Smyth released a long, shaky breath. "This is not what we became healers for, Knight-Lieutenant!" the other mage cried furiously as he stood up. "Something must be done about him!" he shouted, referring to Cullen. "He's insane!"

"You've done your best," Ser Smyth said quietly. "Would you please fetch some men to take them to the infirmary?" The mages looked at him with contempt and exited the yard, leaving Smyth alone with his thoughts.

~O~

Cullen reached his office and bolted the door behind him. He sat at his desk and dragged his fingers through his hair, squeezing his eyes shut; then, seeing the image of the whip flaying flesh, he opened them again.

_You're no better than Uldred!_

"No!" he said aloud. "It's for their own good!" He removed his left gauntlet and scrabbled in his top drawer, grunting in frustration as an ugly feeling of guilt and rage built within him. Finally putting his hand on what he wanted, he placed it on the desk and pulled the chainmail off his left forearm. His right hand shakily picked up the small knife, sharpened to a point, and he wailed and grimaced as he dug it deeply into his arm, dragging it upwards toward his elbow. As the blood flowed out, he felt release; as though his blood carried his sin and that each time he wounded himself in this way he was purging himself of some of that sin.

Panting and grimacing, he removed a wad of tissues from his drawer and pressed them firmly against the wound; he then retrieved a health poultice from his locked drawer and slapped it onto his arm. He threw the knife and the bloody tissues back into the drawer and locked it. He could dispose of them later. He suddenly felt very tired and rose to his feet, intending to go to his quarters.

There was a knock at the door. "Who is it?" Cullen asked.

"It is I, Ser Smyth."

Cullen hastily replaced his chainmail and unlocked the door. Smyth was alarmed at Cullen's appearance. "Ser?" he asked with concern as he noticed Cullen's pale and sweat-soaked face. "Are you feeling quite well?"

"No," Cullen replied shakily. "I am going to retire to my quarters. You are in charge, Ser Smyth," he instructed.

"As you wish, Knight-Commander," Smyth replied.

"How does Magnusson fare?" Cullen asked, realising he had gone too far with him.

Ser Smyth cast his eyes to the floor. "He did not survive, Ser," he mumbled.

"He is with the Maker now," Cullen said, feeling bile rising in his throat as he fought with the urge to vomit. Without another word, he departed for his quarters.

Ser Smyth moved behind the desk and slumped into the chair, placing his elbows on the desk and putting his head in his hands. He massaged his temples as he tried to process what had happened today. His reverie was broken with another knock at the door.

"Come!" Smyth called.

Ser Drake entered and bowed to Smyth. "Ser, there are two people here asking for the Knight-Commander," he announced.

"Who are they?" Smyth asked wearily.

"Grey Wardens," he replied. "One of them is the Warden-Commander."

"The Warden-Commander?" Smyth muttered. "What does he want?"

"She, Ser," Drake corrected.

Ser Smyth looked up sharply. "Is she a mage?" he asked.

"Yes, Ser," Drake answered. "An elven mage."

Ser Smyth rose from the desk. "Knight-Commander Cullen is indisposed," he said. "I shall speak to the Wardens."

"Very good, Ser," Drake replied.

As he moved away from the desk, Ser Smyth noticed a small puddle of fresh blood on the floor. His eyes narrowed as he pondered its significance; then, gathering himself, he exited the office, locking it behind him, and followed Ser Drake to his meeting with Gabrielle Surana.


	3. A headache for Ser Smyth

**Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed this story!**

**A very special thank you to my awesome Beta-Reader and friend, Jen, for rescuing some of my sentences, and for being a top bird!**

**~O~**

Gabby and Nathaniel waited patiently in the main foyer of the Circle Tower. Gabby looked around and sighed. "It's been a long time since I was last here," she said wistfully.

"Do you miss it?" Nathaniel asked.

"I don't know," Gabby said thoughtfully. "I miss my time as an apprentice, certainly. We had a lot of fun. I had a lot of friends here," she continued, her voice growing quieter. "Some of them were like kin to me."

Nathaniel watched her for a moment. "So, in a way, you lost your family here," he said quietly. Gabby looked at him, then cast her head down. "I'm sorry," Nathaniel apologised. "It's just that you never talk about your time here. It must still be very painful for you."

"It was painful for a lot of people, Nathaniel," she replied softly.

Two Templars approached; the first one was Ser Drake, who had gone to inform the Knight-Lieutenant of their arrival. The second was a tall, slim man with close-cropped, black hair and a dusky complexion. He sported a short beard. As he reached them, he extended his hand, first to Gabby.

"Good day," Gabby said, "I am Warden-Commander Surana, and this is my Lieutenant, Warden Howe."

"Greetings, Wardens," he said cordially. "I am Knight-Lieutenant Smyth, second in command of the Templars."

"_Second_ in command?" Gabby asked, confused. "Since when has there been a second to the Knight-Commander?"

"It's a new rule," Ser Smyth replied. "The Chantry have effected many changes since…well, I'm sure you know." He cleared his throat. "The Knight-Commander is unavailable at present," he explained. "May I be of assistance?"

"We've come to annoy you," Gabby said cheerfully.

"Ah," Smyth replied with a small chuckle. "You are recruiting then, are you not?"

"I'm afraid so," she grinned.

"Let us sit and talk," Smyth replied, deciding against using Cullen's office in case he returned. "This way, please," he said as he led them to a small room, sparsely furnished with a desk and some chairs. He invited them to sit and closed the door.

"Now," he began. "As I'm sure you're aware, Warden-Commander, we are still building our contingent of mages from…well, what happened before…"

Nathaniel noted that the mages and Templars alike seemed reluctant to discuss what had happened at the Tower.

"…so I am afraid we cannot spare any mages at the present time," he continued. "However, we do appear to have a glut of Templars," he grinned. "The Chantry assigned us many new Templars…too many, in fact. A lot of them have too much time on their hands."

"Are you suggesting we test Templars for the Grey Wardens?" Nathaniel enquired.

"I am indeed, Ser," Smyth replied, "if that would be helpful to you?"

"Come now, Knight-Lieutenant," said Gabby with a wry smile. "Do you really think Templars would take orders from a mage?"

"Not all of them, no," Smyth said honestly. "Some of the older Knights, definitely not. However," he added, "some of our younger Knights may be more tractable."

Gabby glanced at Nathaniel. "What do you think?" she asked.

"The Templars are renowned warriors," Nathaniel reasoned, "and their dispel abilities would be very useful against Emissaries and the like." Gabby nodded, but was unsure of how Templars would integrate with her and the other Warden mages at Vigil's Keep – most of whom were apostates.

"I will think on it, Knight-Lieutenant," she replied. "I want you to know I appreciate your co-operation."

"Of course," Smyth replied. "Have you made arrangements to stay at the Spoiled Princess?" he asked.

"Oh, erm, no…" Gabby said hesitantly. "I thought maybe we could stay here, if it's not too much trouble? You should have plenty of spare rooms, no?" seeing Smyth's hesitation, she added quickly, "but if it's inconvenient, then, yes, we could stay at the inn, if they have any rooms."

"Oh, it's not inconvenient, I can assure you," Smyth replied, suddenly feeling rather hot. "It is just that I have to seek the Knight-Commander's permission before anyone stays here, and as I said, he is unavailable."

"So, how is Greagoir?" Gabby asked, more out of politeness than genuine concern.

"Erm," Smyth mumbled, clearing his throat. "Knight-Commander Greagoir no longer resides at the Tower."

"Oh?" Gabby asked sharply. "Where is he, then?"

"He has moved on to pastures new," Smyth said evasively.

"I see," Gabby replied, realising that no further details would be forthcoming. "So, who is in charge now?" she asked curiously.

Smyth took a deep breath, unsure of how the news would be received. "Knight-Commander Cullen is now in charge of the Tower," he said calmly, watching her for a reaction.

"Cullen…really?" she replied nonchalantly. Nathaniel was none the wiser, but Smyth sensed a sudden spike in her mana field. They exchanged glances, and, for the briefest of moments, they both knew.

"How is he?" she asked casually, keeping up the pretence, although she could not meet Smyth's eyes.

"He fully discharges his duties as Knight-Commander," Smyth said carefully, not wishing to lie.

Another spike. "I see," Gabby said quietly, feeling a headache coming on. "Perhaps it would be best if we stayed at the inn, then."

"If you feel that is best," Smyth replied with relief. "I shall have Kester take you across the lake when you are ready."

"Knight-Lieutenant?" a frantic voice called from outside.

"Excuse me for a moment," Smyth said heavily, rising to his feet and closing the door behind him.

"Why are we staying at the inn?" Nathaniel asked. "Do you not get along with this…Cullen?"

Gabby sighed deeply. "We, erm…have some…_history_," she said miserably.

"History?" Nathaniel replied, narrowing his eyes. "Do you mean…"

The door opened and Ser Smyth entered, appearing a little flushed. "Please forgive me, Wardens, but I am needed elsewhere and must take my leave of you," he said apologetically. "I shall return shortly. May I ask that you remain here until my return?"

"Is something wrong?" asked Gabby. "May we assist?"

"No, but thank you, Warden-Commander," he replied. "Are you in need of refreshments?"

Gabby and Nathaniel exchanged glances. Nathaniel shook his head. "No, Ser," Gabby replied. "Please, attend to your duties. We will wait."

"Thank you," he said gratefully, closing the door. They listened as his footfalls broke into a run.

"I wonder what's going on?" wondered Gabby. _And why is Cullen unavailable? _She thought. _Does he know I'm here, and wishes not to see me?_

~O~

Ser Smyth strode after his fellow Templar up to the fourth floor. 'Something's happened to the Knight-Commander,' had been his only words. They quickened their pace as they reached the corridor leading to Cullen's quarters; a trail of blood led to his door.

Upon entering, Smyth was astonished to see a female mage tending to Cullen, who lay unconscious on his bed. His armour had been removed, leaving Cullen in only a shift and leggings. The bed sheets were spattered with blood. Two more Templars stood next to the bed, and made way for Smyth as he entered.

"What in Andraste's name has happened?" Smyth exclaimed.

"He was found collapsed outside his room, bleeding heavily," replied the mage, whose name was Leigh. "He had a deep gouge in his forearm. He'd applied a healing poultice, but it was insufficient."

"He injured himself?" asked Smyth. "But how? I spoke to him only 20 minutes ago! He said he was feeling unwell, but…" he stopped as he remembered the blood on the floor of Cullen's office.

"May I speak to you in private, Knight-Lieutenant?" asked Leigh, glancing at the three other Templars in the room.

"Of course," Smyth replied. "Clear the room," he ordered, waiting for the Templars to depart before closing the door.

"Ser," Leigh said, turning to Smyth, "I believe that this injury was self-inflicted."

"I don't understand," Smyth replied. "What do you mean, self-inflicted?"

She held up Cullen's left forearm. It was covered in old scars, many of them appearing to be from deep wounds. Ser Smyth closely examined the scars, his mouth agape.

"His other arm is the same," Leigh explained, "and his right thigh has been stabbed several times in the past. Whether those injuries were self-inflicted or not is hard to say," she added. "What I cannot explain, however, is this."

Leigh pulled Cullen's shirt up and, with Smyth's assistance, pushed him onto his side, giving a clear view of his back. Ser Smyth recoiled in horror at what he saw. The skin on Cullen's back was raised and puckered; in some places the skin was black, in others, an angry purple. "What…what _is _that?" he stammered.

"It's a burn, Ser," Leigh replied gravely. "A magical burn."

Ser Smyth glanced sharply at her. "Are you saying this is the work of a mage?" he whispered.

"Without a doubt, Ser," Leigh replied, pursing her lips. "Although, I cannot think for the life of me what kind of magic was responsible. None that any in the Tower possess, that's for sure."

Ser Smyth covered his face with his hands and paced to the other side of the room, trying to take it all in. He was fairly certain that Uldred had been responsible for the disfiguring burn, but the rest of Cullen's injuries made no sense to him.

"You said that some of his injuries were self-inflicted," Smyth said to Leigh. "What makes you think that? And why would anyone injure themselves on purpose?"

"I've seen it before," Leigh replied quietly, shaking her head. "Sometimes, when a person feels overwhelming grief or torment, they use self-injury as an emotional outlet, where none other exists." She pulled a blanket over Cullen. "It is indicative of a deeply troubled mind."

"I've never heard of such a thing," Smyth muttered in disbelief.

"It's more common than you think, Knight-Lieutenant," she replied. "I've put him to sleep," she added. "I'll return and check on him later."

"Erm," Smyth mumbled, thinking that may not be a good idea. "I shall send for you, Leigh, if it becomes necessary. You've done a fine job here. Thank you."

Leigh sighed and walked toward the door.

"Oh, and Leigh?" Smyth called.

"I know," she said with annoyance. "Not a word." She closed the door firmly behind her.

Smyth sank back into a chair and closed his eyes. This was an intolerable situation. He had two Wardens downstairs who were after recruits. Smyth couldn't release anyone to the Wardens without Cullen's consent. Cullen would want to speak to the Wardens, when and if he was in a fit state to do so. Smyth racked his brain to think of a way for the Wardens to depart with what they wanted, without Cullen ever knowing their identities.

Finding no answers, he decided he should return to the Wardens before they started roaming the Tower. He headed downstairs, and went straight outside to the jetty, where Kester waited. He did _not _want the Wardens around when Cullen woke up.

"Ah, good evening, Ser," said Kester politely as Ser Smyth approached.

"Good evening**,** Kester," Smyth replied. "Just wanted to let you know that the Wardens will be departing shortly – they wish to stay at the Spoiled Princess for the night."

"The Spoiled Princess? Not a chance," Kester scoffed. "Full to bursting, it is. They put a sign up this afternoon – 'NO MORE ROOMS'."

"Full?" Smyth exclaimed with dismay. "Are you certain?"

"Quite certain, Ser," Kester replied. "It's always full when the weather's good around the Lake – lots of young couples come here to er, well…be _romantic _by the Lake."

"Oh. I see," Smyth replied, feeling defeated and tired. "Well, thank you anyway, Kester. Good evening to you."

"Good evening, Ser," Kester replied as Ser Smyth headed back into the Tower.

~O~

Ser Stanford and Ser Thorpe, both off duty Templars, gossiped idly as they stood in a corridor, after first ensuring no one was around. "I feel sorry for Smyth, with what he has to put up with," said Ser Stanford, "what with the Knight-Commander the way he is."

"Well, I think he's finally cracked, this time," mumbled Ser Thorpe. "I heard he tried to do away with himself this afternoon."

"Don't be ridiculous!" Stanford laughed derisively. "He'd never do that. Who'd do his floggings for him then? Bastard." he muttered.

"No, I'm telling you, I overheard some of the mages earlier on," Thorpe replied. "They said he was found upstairs in a pool of blood. That healer, Leigh, tended to him."

"Are you sure it wasn't attempted murder?" Stanford snorted. "Mind you," he added, "that Cullen always was touched in the head. I wouldn't be surprised at anything he does."

The conversation ended abruptly as a nearby door flew open and a furious-looking mage stood in the doorway. "Perhaps I should inform Knight-Lieutenant Smyth that the pair of you have nothing better to do but gossip!" she raged.

"Oh, erm, no, Miss," Stanford stammered. "W-we meant nothing by it, honestly."

A hand firmly gripped Gabby's arm and pulled her back into the room. "What are you doing?" Nathaniel rebuked. "We're here to recruit, not to involve ourselves in the internal affairs of the Tower!"

"This used to be my home once, Nate, in case you've forgotten!" Gabby said hotly, using his nickname, which he disliked. "There are still a handful of people alive here that I used to know!"

Nathaniel sighed and fell quiet. Gabby massaged her forehead. Her head pounded. "Look, I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I know you're right; I just heard them say something that…disturbed me."

"About the Knight-Commander?" Nathaniel asked cautiously. Gabby nodded, looking at the floor. "Gabby," Nathaniel said softly, "what happened between the two of you?"

"Nothing," she replied sourly. "Nothing ever happened," she said, her eyes glazed over as pictures of past memories came into her mind. "We…we had…feelings for each other, at one point, though," she added quietly.

"And that's forbidden, isn't it?" Nate asked astutely.

Gabby laughed mirthlessly. "It's about as forbidden as it gets, yes!"

"So, if nothing happened…" Nathaniel began.

Gabby sighed and sat down; Nathaniel joined her, sitting opposite. "I used to flirt with him, and he…well, he was embarrassed by it," she recalled. "He was really shy. One day I asked him if he wanted me to stop," she said, smiling fondly. "He blushed and said 'no.'

He wrote me a poem once, you know," she grinned sheepishly, nodding her head at Nathaniel's surprised expression. "I still have it. It was really sweet. It was pushed under my door one day. It was written anonymously, but I suspected it was from him. I decided to call his bluff, and the next day I thanked him for the beautiful poem."

"How did he react?" asked Nathaniel.

Gabby smiled lovingly. "He turned the brightest shade of red you could imagine, Nathaniel, and he stuttered so hard I feared he would be sick!" She shook her head and sighed.

"Then I was conscripted, and thought I'd never see him again," she continued, "and then I became involved with Alistair. We had to return to the Tower, eventually, though." She hung her head and fell silent for a few moments. Nathaniel said nothing and waited.

"Most of them were dead when we went inside," she whispered, her eyes staring through Nathaniel's chest. "I thought they were all dead…I thought he was dead. But he wasn't," she said, her voice taking on a brittle edge. Nathaniel noticed that her hands were clenched. "We found him trapped. Uldred had…well, I don't know what he did, but he'd turned Cullen against the mages. He turned on me…the things he said…I…"

Nathaniel's brow wrinkled as she dashed away a tear. She laughed suddenly, bitterly and completely devoid of mirth. "When Alistair – the King – and I got back to camp afterwards, he told me he loved me for the first time…" she stood up and began pacing the room. "I really know how to pick them, don't I?" she said to Nathaniel. "I seem to have a penchant for emotionally crippled Templars!"

Nathaniel was at a loss for what to say. "I'm sorry, Gabby," was all he could muster.

Ser Smyth re-entered the room and looked at Gabby with dismay. "Are you alright, Warden-Commander?"

Gabby stared at the Templar, trying to decide if she should demand information as to what was really happening in the Tower, but decided against it. She had learned from Nathaniel that subtlety and patience were often the best routes to garnering information.

"I feel a migraine coming on, Knight-Lieutenant," she replied, not altogether untruthfully. She touched her forehead and was bathed in a blue, glowing light. "That's a little better," she murmured.

"Are you a healer, Warden-Commander?" Smyth asked.

"No, Ser," she replied.

"Well, if you wish, I could send for a healer to tend to you," he offered.

"That won't be necessary, Ser," she responded gratefully. "I think I shall feel better once we're on our way across the Lake. The fresh air should do me good."

"Unfortunately, Warden-Commander, I have just learned that the inn is full to capacity," Smyth informed them. "Therefore, I have arranged quarters for you both. I shall take you to them now," he said, gesturing with his hand for them to exit the room. "You will find food and drink in your quarters."

Gabby and Nathaniel thanked him, and he showed them to their quarters on the third floor, with the Senior Enchanters. He thought about assigning them an escort for the duration of their stay, then decided against it; he did not want to arouse suspicion, and, as far as Smyth knew, the Wardens knew nothing of what had transpired.

"Will we be able to speak to the Knight-Commander tomorrow, Ser Smyth?" Gabby asked before she entered her room.

"I hope so, yes," he uttered, hoping she wouldn't notice the doubt in his voice. "I shall have someone send for you both in the morning."

"Thank you, Knight-Lieutenant," Gabby replied. "You're very gracious."

Ser Smyth bowed and wished them both a pleasant night, before heading off in search of a healer to tend to his _own _headache.


	4. Ghosts at the Tower

**Thank you once again to everyone who has reviewed, favourited or story-alerted!**

**Thank you so much Jen for once again rescuing some of my sentences and ramblings, and for putting up with me! :-***

Gabby crept along the silent corridors, clinging to the walls as she went. Occasionally she heard voices, the jangling of keys or the clanking of Templar armour, and ducked into an empty room to hide until the danger passed. Gabby, like many of her fellow apprentices, had snuck onto the upper floors of the Tower several times in the past; anyone managing to reach the Templars' quarters on the fourth floor were accorded special respect. She had been one of the few who had managed to do so, and therefore knew the Templars' shift patterns and movements intimately. She just prayed they hadn't changed since her time away from the Tower.

She stood at the crest of a bend in the corridor, taking deep breaths in an attempt to slow her heart rate; it beat so stridently in her chest she almost feared the Templars would hear it. A lone Knight stood at the foot of the steps leading to the fourth floor, swaying gently as he fought against sleep. It was almost time for changeover, and, if the Maker were on Gabby's side, the Templar would leave his post a few minutes early, before his relief arrived, as they had often done when she had been an apprentice.

The Templar's head slowly sank onto his chest, and his body jolted suddenly as he snapped himself awake. He glanced around furtively, then took off along the upper corridor. _So predictable, _she thought with satisfaction.

She moved quickly, although every one of her senses screamed at her to be slow and deliberate. She broke into a heavy sweat as she approached the steps to the fourth floor, and, with a quick look around her, ascended them, her legs threatening to give way beneath her as she did so. She grasped the handle of the heavy wooden door and turned it; her face frozen in a grimace as it creaked loudly. She slowly peered around the door, her eyes wide and her breathing rapid as her heart thumped against her ribcage. No one was around. She closed the door and ducked into an alcove next to it, leaning against the wall as she attempted to calm herself.

She was in unknown territory, now; she had never been on this floor at night, and therefore had no knowledge of the shift detail, if one even existed up here where the Templars slept. She peered around into the corridor. Listening carefully, she heard soft snoring and quiet shuffling as the Templars fidgeted in their sleep; apart from that, the fourth floor was eerily quiet. She began moving tentatively along, ignoring her mind's ardent protest to return to the alcove.

Gabby suddenly realised she had little idea of where she was going, and even less of an idea where Cullen's quarters were. There would be no empty rooms to hide in on this floor, and she couldn't use magic to conceal herself, not unless she wanted a horde of Templars descending on her. _What am I doing?_ she thought to herself as the folly of her ill-conceived plan dawned on her at last. _And if you do find his quarters, then what? _She sighed and turned to head back.

"Miss Surana?"

Gabby span round, clutching at her chest as her heart leapt into her mouth. A helmed Templar stood before her, his head slightly cocked to the side. "W-where did you come from?" she gasped.

"I could ask you the same thing," he replied calmly. "You of all people should know you're not permitted to be on this floor, Warden-Commander or not."

"Do I know you?" Gabby asked cautiously, trying to steady her breathing. "Your voice sounds familiar."

The Templar removed his helm. "Ser Lewin?" she whispered. "I-I had thought that you…"

"Not all of us perished," he replied quietly. "A handful of us survived along with Cullen. I was one of the lucky ones," he sighed. "I happened to be on duty at the main doors when…when it happened. But never mind that," he said hastily, ushering Gabby toward the exit to the third floor. "You shouldn't be up here. I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"Please," Gabby implored, grabbing his arm, "I need to know if Cullen is alright. I…heard that he had…seriously injured himself."

Ser Lewin sighed and glanced around, gesturing for Gabby to step into the alcove, where he joined her. "I suppose you would want to know," he muttered, glancing nervously out into the corridor, "as you were the one who rescued him."

"Well?" Gabby asked as Ser Lewin hesitated. "I heard that he'd been badly injured, and that he'd…tried to…" she swallowed down the last words as her voice threatened to break.

"I can't say for sure what happened to him, Miss," Lewin replied, "as I wasn't here at the time. You know what it's like in here for gossip. All I know is that yes, he was injured, but is safe now." He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. "Miss Surana…" he began hesitantly, "Knight-Commander Cullen is…not a well man," he uttered as he tapped the side of his temple.

"What do you…what do you mean?" Gabby asked with dread, her stomach knotting tightly.

Lewin looked out into the corridor again and dropped his voice to a whisper. "He's changed, Miss," he murmured, "since…since Uldred. Maker knows what that bastard did to him, but he's never been the same since. He's not the person we once knew."

"How has he changed?" asked Gabby.

"He-he's cruel," Lewin whispered. "Although he's never done anything to me personally, many of the men fear and hate him."

"Cruel? _Cullen_?" Gabby exclaimed sharply, putting her hand over her mouth to silence herself. "I don't believe it," she whispered.

"Neither would I, were I in your position," Lewin shrugged. "But I fear it is true. Uldred warped his mind," he said, shaking his head. He glanced at Gabby. "You really have to go," he said firmly. "If you go now, I won't say a word, but if one of the newer Templars find you up here, they'll tell Smyth."

"You needn't worry about that," Gabby replied resolutely. "I will be speaking to Smyth about this myself in the morning."

"Well don't mention my name!" he whispered harshly. "Cullen will have me flogged if he finds out I told you anything."

"What?" Gabby exclaimed in consternation. "_Flogged_?"

"Please, Miss," he insisted. "You _must _return to your quarters!"

Seeing the panic on his face, Gabby reluctantly acquiesced. Ser Lewin escorted her back to the third floor, making an excuse for her presence to the new Templar on duty at the foot of the stairs.

She reached her quarters, trembling and feeling nauseous. Closing her eyes and exhaling deeply, she turned the doorknob to enter.

"_Where _have _you _been?"

Gabby clutched her stomach, almost sobbing as panic surged through her once again. She turned to see Nathaniel standing next to her with his arms folded. His face bore the expression of a strict father chastising an unruly child.

"I-I just went to stretch my legs," she replied without even trying to sound convincing, knowing it wouldn't work on the irritatingly sagacious Howe.

"You're a rotten liar, Gabby," he replied with a sigh, his features softening a little. "Come on," he said, gesturing for her to enter his room.

He poured her some water as she slumped into a chair. "Here," he said, setting the glass down on the table next to her. She didn't reply, lost in thought as she examined her fingernails.

"What did you discover?" he asked as he sat on his bed.

"Hm?" she mumbled. "Oh, you…you want to know?"

"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to know, would I?" he replied.

"Well, I heard more disturbing things about Cullen, if you must know," she said with a slightly petulant air. "He…the Templar…said Cullen was…warped," she muttered, her voice dropping to a whisper as her eyes misted over, and she surrendered herself to her thoughts once more.

"What were you doing up there, Gabby?" he asked sternly. "What did you hope to accomplish?"

"So this is where you tell me you don't approve," she snapped. "What a surprise. You never approve of anything I do. I wish I'd brought Anders along instead," she said with a huff, folding her arms.

Nathaniel suppressed a grin. "If you had brought Anders along," he said evenly, "I have no doubt that by now the two of you would have the Tower hurled in ruins along the shoreline. The reason you brought me along, as you well know, is that I am the only Senior Warden at Vigil's Keep possessing a modicum of common sense!" he replied, unable to keep his amusement from seeping into his voice.

"Does it get lonely up there, Nathaniel, on your self-appointed pedestal?" she retorted, folding her arms even more tightly; a reluctant smirk pulling at the edges of her mouth.

"Not really," he replied dryly. "I get plenty of amusement from watching you lesser mortals down below."

Gabby laughed; a deep rumble that emanated from her belly and shook her shoulders. Nathaniel rose and sat opposite her as her laughter dissolved into tears. "I-I just needed to know he was alright, that's all," she stammered. "Obviously I didn't think it through properly. I was caught within 10 seconds of getting up there."

"You should have come to me," he said softly. "At least I know what I'm doing when it comes to sneaking around."

"You never would have agreed!" she protested.

"At the time, perhaps not," he concurred, "but I see now how important this is to you." He rose and began to dress. "I'll see what I can find out."

"You-you'd really do that, Nathaniel?" she said as she rose to her feet. "After I've been so horrid to you?"

He laughed. "I suffered more emotional trauma when Ser Pounce-a-lot hissed at me the other day," he said with a grin. "Go back to your room," he instructed as he pulled his boots on. "I don't want you getting into any more scrapes tonight."

"Yes, Boss," she answered as she walked over to the door. "And thank you. I really mean that, Nathaniel."

"Go on, get out of here," he said with a wave of his hand.

~O~

The morning shift began at 6am. Ser Smyth was already up, and stood outside Cullen's office, besieged by several fellow Templars. "Maker's mercy, what has got into you all?" he exclaimed with a mixture of amusement and irritation. "You're supposed to be grown men and Knights! There are no ghosts in the Tower!"

"I'm telling you, Knight-Lieutenant, several of us saw it last night," one of the Templars replied, "up on the fourth floor. A shadowy man who appeared and disappeared in front of our eyes! We all saw it, didn't we?" A clamour broke out as his fellow Knights agreed loudly and attempted to give their own accounts above the din.

Ser Smyth closed his eyes and waited for the noise to die down. "Look, I'll take a couple of mages up there later to see if they can sense anything," he mollified, "but all of the veil tears in the Tower were mended after the revolt. Knight-Commander Cullen saw to that."

"I think the Grand Cleric should be brought here to perform an exorcism!" one of the Templars cried out, to hearty murmurs of agreement.

Ser Smyth threw his head back and laughed. "An exorcism?" he exclaimed. "This isn't the dark ages, you know! Besides, the dead can't hurt you. Only the living can do that," he said as he rapped on Cullen's office door.

"But Ser, we have to sleep up there!" another Templar protested.

"Well, feel free to write to the Grand Cleric if you wish," Smyth responded as he knocked on the door for the second time. "I'm not doing it. She'd have me locked away if I suggested such a thing. Now get to your posts," he commanded. "And no more talk of ghosts."

As the grumbling Templars departed, Ser Smyth tried the handle to Cullen's office; it was locked. He took out his keys and entered. Cullen had obviously not returned since yesterday; the office was exactly as Smyth had left it. He closed the door, retrieved some tissues from a drawer and cleaned up the now congealed blood from the floor.

He made his way up to the fourth floor, fending off more accounts of ghost sightings from some of the Templars he passed on the way. He finally reached Cullen's quarters and knocked the door softly. He waited for a response, and, when none came, he knocked again. He stood there for a moment, wondering what he would find when he opened the door.

Bracing himself, he turned the knob and entered. Cullen sat at his table next to the window, still wearing his undergarments. His arms were crooked and his forehead rested against his palms; his were eyes firmly closed.

"Ser?" Smyth ventured quietly. "May I come in?"

Cullen didn't reply immediately, and, for a moment, Smyth thought he was asleep.

"Shut the door," Cullen said heavily.

Smyth entered and closed the door behind him. He stood and waited; for what he didn't know. "I thought I should check on you, Ser," he said quietly. "How do you feel?"

He watched Cullen's shoulders tense, then sag. "So now you know," Cullen mumbled, tracing a scar on his forearm with his finger. "I expect everyone knows by now."

Smyth decided that now was not the time to feign ignorance. "No, Ser, not many," he replied, "and those that do will be discreet. I shall see to that," he promised. A heavy silence fell between the two of them for a moment, then Smyth noticed that Cullen's shoulders were trembling. He began to weep.

"I'm not fit to command this Tower!" he sobbed. "I'm…not fit to be around decent people!"

Ser Smyth stood rooted to the spot, feeling utterly helpless as tears streamed down his Commander's face. He tentatively walked over to the table and sat on the opposite chair, staring at the ground as Cullen's body silently shook.

A knock came at the door. Smyth tutted loudly and stood up, opening the door just a crack. "Yes?" he asked irritably.

"Pardon me, Ser, but I was told you would be here," a Templar out in the corridor said. "The Wardens are downstairs and are asking for you."

Smyth closed his eyes and sighed; he didn't need this now. "Tell them I shall be with them shortly," he instructed. "See to it they have breakfast and are well looked after."

"Yes, Ser," the Templar replied. Smyth closed and locked the door. He turned to face Cullen, who sat with his hands covering his face. Smyth joined him again at the table.

"Wardens?" Cullen asked quietly.

A feeling of dread gnawed at Smyth's gut; he tried to answer as casually as possible. "Yes, Ser. Two Wardens came to the Tower yesterday, seeking recruits. I informed them that while we cannot spare any mages, some of the Knights may be willing to test for the Wardens," he said, "with your leave, of course, Ser."

Cullen made a slight nod with his head. "Ser, may I recommend you let me take care of this?" Smyth suggested, fervently hoping that Cullen would agree. "And may I recommend further that you remain here for today, to regain your strength?"

"Yes, you take care of it, Tristan," Cullen mumbled, using Smyth's first name. "I shall remain here." He looked up at Smyth, his eyes dull with fatigue and sorrow. "I shall have to write to Magnusson's family," he said in a whisper. "He has a brother, I think…"

"I will do that, Ser," Smyth offered.

"No," Cullen said firmly. "I was the one responsible for…" he trailed off, staring at the wall. "His brother deserves to know the truth."

"Ser," Smyth said stiffly. "I strongly urge against that course of action."

"Are you suggesting I lie?" Cullen asked with a frown.

"No Ser," Smyth replied. "I'm suggesting you let me lie," he said, holding his hand up to stop Cullen's protest. "I believe it would be an honourable lie, Ser, given the circumstances, and easier for his family to bear."

"No," said Cullen. "I won't ask you to sin in such a way."

"You did not ask me, Ser," Smyth replied. "I offered. And there is not one Knight in this Tower who is completely free from sin, myself included."

"And when the Grand Cleric asks of the circumstances of his death, will you lie again?" Cullen asked.

"Yes, Ser, I will," Smyth said grimly. "I believe you to be a fine Knight-Commander, Ser. What you have done to turn this Tower around since…well, has been nothing short of astonishing."

Cullen gaped at Smyth, astounded at his loyalty.

However," Smyth said frankly, "some of your methods are excessive. I am prepared to lie for you on this occasion," he said dourly, "but your brutal treatment of the men must stop."

"But they have to learn!" Cullen protested. "I will not allow them to make the same mistake I did! I won't!" he cried, stabbing at the table with his finger.

"No, Ser," Smyth said firmly. The time had come for complete honesty with the Knight-Commander, regardless of the consequences. "It _has _to stop. No more floggings. Your word, Ser."

Cullen glared at Smyth, who resolutely returned his gaze. Neither man was prepared to back down, and for a moment, Smyth feared that things would go ill for him. Then, Cullen's eyes glazed over as the memory of Magnusson came back to him.

_You're no better than Uldred._

"You have my word," Cullen uttered, so quietly that Smyth barely heard it.

_A breakthrough__, Maker be praised__._ "Very good, Ser," Smyth replied, "and well done." He stood and walked over to the door. "I shall have breakfast sent up to you, and will have someone come to change your bed," he said softly. "I suggest you get some rest, Ser. I shall call on you later."

Ser Smyth opened the door to leave. "The Wardens…" began Cullen.

Smyth gulped and turned around. "Yes, Ser? What about them?" he asked, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"What are their names?" Cullen asked in a hushed tone.

Ser Smyth wrestled with the idea of giving a false name; after all, one more lie wouldn't hurt, would it? But something made him _want _Cullen to know she was here. _Perhaps she can help him, _he thought. A tight ball of fear formed in the pit of Smyth's stomach as he spoke. "Howe and Surana, Ser," he replied, his eyes widening as he watched for a reaction.

Cullen's head snapped up.

"Surana?"


	5. Mages ARE real

**I cannot thank you all enough for your wonderful reviews! They really inspire me to keep writing! :D**

**Jen, my American sister, 'thank you' can never be enough for your inspiration, excellent input, and friendship! :-***

**~O~**

Cullen slowly rose to his feet and turned his back on Smyth, grasping his chin as he stared out of the window.

"She's here?" he asked softly, "in _my _Tower?"

Ser Smyth had no choice but to feign ignorance this time, as Cullen had no idea how much of their past he was aware of. "Is something wrong, Ser?" he asked, wiping sweat from his brow. He watched Cullen very carefully; his posture was stiff and awkward-looking. The uneasiness radiating from his Commander was so palpable it was almost a third person in the room. Smyth's mouth set in a hard line as he braced himself for the storm.

"Have the Wardens out of here as quickly as possible," Cullen muttered darkly. "And keep them away from me," he emphasised, turning to face Smyth. "I want an escort with them at all times. Do not let…her…get out of their sight."

"But Ser," Smyth protested, not quite able to meet Cullen's eyes, "she is the Warden-Commander of Ferelden, and a native of the Circle Tower."

"Warden-Commander?" Cullen sneered. "And how did she manage that?" He began pacing the room, breathing rapidly. He spun round to face Smyth. "Of course!" he laughed mirthlessly, throwing his hands into the air. "She was sharing the King's bed!"

"Ser?" Smyth began.

"Oh, I know all about that!" Cullen snorted. "She was with him when they came here to kill Uldred. She was _with _him," he said contemptuously.

_He still has feelings for her, _Smyth realised. "Be that as it may, Ser," he replied, "I do not believe that she poses any threat."

Cullen took two steps toward Smyth, his amber eyes glowing like two searing points of flame. "She is a _mage_, is she not?" he hissed, "and _you _have questioned my orders enough for one day!" he said dangerously, his jaw trembling as he spoke. "Do as I say!" he yelled.

"Yes, Ser," Smyth replied with a heavy sigh, and bowed before unlocking the door.

"Have them out of here as soon as possible," Cullen repeated.

Ser Smyth exited and closed the door behind him. Cullen stared at the door for several moments, his breath coming out in shaky bursts. He grasped the back of his neck and paced back and forth, breathing deeply in an attempt to assuage the bitter bile he felt rising up his gullet. He walked over to his cabinet and searched for a bottle of something. Anything. All were empty. He yelled in frustration and hurled a bottle at the wall, placing his hand over his eyes and shaking his head, desperately trying to will his tears away.

_No! I'm not going to! Not for her! _"No!" he wailed as he sank to his knees, then onto all fours, no longer able to contain the emotional dam he had built within himself. Ser Smyth listened outside the door as Cullen sobbed mournfully, waiting until the cries turned to gasps, then finally to silence.

~O~

Nathaniel and Gabby sat eating their breakfast in the dining hall, which housed four large banqueting tables. The Templars and Magi sat at separate tables. It was painfully obvious how few the numbers in the Tower were now, as at one time seats would have been at a premium; now five apprentices and six mages sat at one table, sixteen Templars at another. The two Wardens sat away from the others at an empty table, discussing Nathaniel's nocturnal foray onto the fourth floor.

"Cullen's quarters are to the north-east," Nathaniel whispered, "just about as far away from the entrance as is possible." He sighed and set his spoon down. "Gabby," he said softly, "something did happen to him." He paused for a moment, wishing he had better tidings.

"Tell me," she insisted.

Nathaniel drummed his fingers against the table. "Outside, leading up to his door, was…blood," he said hesitantly. Gabby stopped eating and gaped at him. "It had been cleaned up," he continued, "but traces of it remained on the stone."

"Was there a lot of blood?" she asked with wide eyes.

Nathaniel nodded slowly. "I'm sorry, Gabby," he replied. "I couldn't get into his quarters," he explained. "Two Templars were stationed outside. I can fool one person at a time, but two would be pushing my luck."

"And you're sure it was Cullen's room?" she asked.

"Yes," he confirmed. "The Templars were talking about him."

"And what were they saying?" she asked, feeling a sudden and unexpected surge of anger.

Nathaniel looked at the table. "One of them said they were there to 'keep the scary mages away.'" Gabby stared at him in appalled silence. "Don't worry, I taught him a lesson," Nathaniel said wickedly. "I scared the living crap out of him. He thought I was a ghost, and his colleague thought he'd gone mad."

"Yes," said Gabby with a faint smile, "that seems to be the main topic of conversation among the Templars this morning. Most of them saw a 'ghost' on the fourth floor last night."

Nathaniel smiled impishly. "It was quite fun, actually," he said with a grin. "I might do it again tonight, just for a lark."

Gabby smiled at last. "I didn't mean what I said last night, you know," she said apologetically. "I'm glad you came with me."

"I know," he replied with a wink.

"Wardens!" a Templar called from the hall entrance. "Knight-Lieutenant Smyth is at your disposal, when you are ready. He awaits you in the Knight-Commander's office."

"Thank you," Gabby called back.

Nathaniel watched her for a moment as she stared at her bowl. "Are you ready for this?" he asked. "You may not like what he has to say."

"Of that, I have no doubt," she replied. "I'm as ready as I'll ever be. Let's go."

~O~

The Wardens approached Cullen's office and Gabby knocked on the door.

"Come!" came the answer from within. "Ah, Wardens," Smyth said, rising to his feet as they entered. "Please, be seated."

As they all took their seats, Smyth began to speak. "I have good news, Wardens," he informed them. "We can begin testing some of the Tower's Knights immediately, if you are in agreement. Several of the Knights have expressed…"

"I don't want to talk about recruiting for the moment, Ser," Gabby interrupted.

"Oh?" Smyth asked with a frown, resting his chin on his fist.

"I want to talk about Cullen," she replied.

Ser Smyth looked questioningly at Gabby and sat back in his chair. After a pause, he spoke again. "What would you like to know?" he asked cautiously.

"I want to know what happened to him," she said bluntly.

"I'm sorry," he replied. "I'm not sure what you…"

"He was seriously injured yesterday," Gabby continued. "I want to know how he was injured, and how he fares now," she demanded. "I have heard that the injury was self-inflicted."

Ser Smyth involuntarily grabbed the arms of his chair as he sat forward. "How did you…" he began.

"Some of your Templars have loose tongues, Knight-Lieutenant," Gabby replied distastefully. "Cullen was once a friend of mine, and I want to know what's happened to him. I've heard all sorts of different things. I want the truth," she said firmly.

Ser Smyth sighed heavily and looked away from the Wardens, lost in thought for a few moments. "Very well, Warden-Commander," he said at last. "I would speak to you in private."

"We are in private," she replied. "Senior Warden Howe hears everything as I hear it. I trust him implicitly. You may speak freely."

Ser Smyth nodded, pushed his chair back and started to rise, then sat back down again. "You may find the truth somewhat disturbing, Warden-Commander," he warned.

Gabby folded her arms and tilted her head back slightly. "It can't be any worse than the gossip and rumours I've heard since my short time back at the Tower," she said crisply. "I want to know what happened with Uldred, and I want to know how it has affected him. Also," she said heatedly, her voice quaking as she spoke, "I want to know why the Chantry appointed him Knight-Commander so soon after the revolt at the Tower, when he obviously needed help!"

Nathaniel glanced at her and gently touched her arm. She blinked rapidly and sighed, sinking back into her chair. "Forgive me, Knight-Lieutenant," she said quietly, but with an edge to her voice. "I believe you to be an honourable man from what I have seen of you so far, so I will take you at your word."

Ser Smyth looked at her for a few moments, before casting his eyes down onto the desk. "Uldred…" he began, fidgeting in his chair, "…tortured him."

Nathaniel glanced at Gabby. Her face was set in a grim mask. "How?" she asked flatly.

"I read a report, which did not state explicitly what occurred," he replied warily. "But, reading between the lines…" he cleared his throat. "Uldred summoned a demon to torment Cullen. It is my belief that the demon assumed your form, Warden-Commander, and…" he exhaled heavily and cast his head down.

"Me?" she asked, her gaze darting between Nathaniel and Smyth. "And did what?"

Ser Smyth glanced at Nathaniel, who nodded and looked at Gabby. She rose from her chair and turned toward the door, picking at her fingernails. "How do you know this?" she whispered, realisation dawning on her.

"Please, Warden-Commander, do not make me go into full details," Smyth said softly.

"I feel sick," said Gabby.

Nathaniel stood and steered her back into her chair while Ser Smyth poured her a tumbler of water. She took a small sip, her hand trembling as she held the glass.

"What else?" she asked.

"Gabby…" Nathaniel began.

"No, I want to know everything," she said firmly. "Please," she beseeched Smyth.

Smyth nodded slowly and gulped. "Very well," he muttered. "Uldred also used him as a blood thrall and forced him to kill several of his Templar brothers while he was imprisoned."

"Maker's blood!" Gabby cried out, standing once again and walking over to the corner of the room, where she covered her face with her hands and wept. Nathaniel stood and walked over to her, gently placing his hand on her shoulder. She turned toward him and buried her face in his neck. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head, gently rocking back and forth. Ser Smyth sat with his head in his hands, and for several minutes, the three of them were silent.

Gabby slightly pulled away from Nathaniel and wiped her face with violently trembling hands. "So…so…when we found him, in the cage," she said breathlessly, "the Templars lying around him on-on the floor…"

With a brief glance at her, Ser Smyth answered her question. Gabby's face crumpled and Nathaniel pulled her close again.

Eventually, Gabby composed herself and took her seat, mumbling apologies, which the two men brushed off.

"So…how has this affected him?" she asked quietly.

"As I did not know Knight-Commander Cullen before…before Uldred," Smyth said hesitantly, "I cannot fully answer that question. "However," he added, "from what I understand, having spoken to some of the older Knights here, Cullen used to be very mild-mannered and softly spoken. Would you agree with that, Warden-Commander?" he asked.

Gabby at first appeared not to have heard him; she stared miserably at her feet and said nothing, then slowly nodded her head.

"How has he changed?" Nathaniel asked Smyth, not taking his eyes off Gabby.

"He is volatile, and prone to fits of rage," Smyth replied. "Also, his hatred of mages runs so deep he can barely bring himself to acknowledge their existence," he said, shaking his head. "In fact," he said, addressing Gabby, "today I heard him use the word 'mage' for the very first time since I've known him."

She looked up. "What does he usually call mages, then?" she asked.

Smyth raised his eyebrows and sighed. "Devils, heathens, abominations…he cannot bring himself to say the word 'mage,'" he said sadly. "Until today, that is, Warden-Commander – when I informed him of _your_ presence at the Tower."

"What?" she murmured.

"Yes," Smyth said. "The news of your arrival here had quite an effect on him. He actually acknowledged that you are a mage. That may not sound much to you, but to me it is significant."

"How did he react to my being here?" she asked with fear in her voice.

"Strongly," Ser Smyth said firmly. "Very strongly. However, that is much better than pretending you do not exist. He simply could not do it with you for some reason."

Ser Smyth rose and rolled his shoulders. "Warden-Commander…" he asked haltingly. "May I ask you a question of a personal nature? Which you may feel free to decline to answer, of course."

"Please do," Gabby replied, having an idea of what he would ask.

"Did…anything happen between the two of you?" he asked with a slight grimace on his face, almost as though he were afraid of her reaction.

"No, Ser," she replied honestly. "Although, were it not for his devotion to the Maker and to his vows, things…may have been different."

"I see," Smyth replied, taking his seat once again. "Warden-Commander," he said resolutely. "I have a favour to ask of you."

"What is that?" she replied.

"If you have no immediate plans, I respectfully request that you stay at the Tower for a while longer," he said, his body tensing involuntarily as he waited for her reaction. "I believe that there is still some of the former Cullen remaining in him," he stated. "The presence of someone he knew before Uldred did his diabolical work, particularly someone he cared for, may have a positive effect on him."

"Or it may remind him of…what happened," she countered.

"It may indeed," he replied. "It is a risk, but one I feel is worth taking. I believe that Cullen is a good man, beneath the bitterness and torment he feels. If we work together, perhaps we can help him."

Gabby thought for a few moments. "Yes, I agree," she replied. "Together, we will try to help him."

"Do not be under any illusions, Warden-Commander," Smyth warned. "This will not be easy. I have no doubt he will react fiercely to your continued presence here, and he may do or say some very unpleasant things. You should ask yourself if you are prepared for that eventuality."

"I am, Knight-Lieutenant," she said with conviction. "I knew the man he used to be, and that man is worth saving. I will stay here for as long as it takes."

Nathaniel leaned over and whispered to her. "We cannot stay here for much longer," he disputed. "We have the King's wedding to attend next week."

Gabby's body stiffened. "I will not be attending," she said icily.

"We must," Nathaniel insisted. "The Grey Wardens are expected to go, and as the Arlessa of Amaranthine, it would be a scandal were you not to attend."

"I don't care!" she yelled.

"I shall give you some privacy," Ser Smyth mumbled as he moved toward the door. "I will be in the training yard," he said as he exited and closed the door behind him.

"Gabby, we've had this discussion countless times," Nathaniel said seriously. "You agreed you would go."

"Well I've changed my mind!" she hissed, throwing her chair back and standing with her back to him, arms folded.

"Look," he said, softening his tone, "I know it won't be easy for you, but you _are _expected to attend…"

"You know something, Nathaniel?" she interrupted heatedly, turning to face him. "I'm 22 years old. A year ago, I was an apprentice who dreamed of leaving the Tower and spreading my wings. Silly, idealistic dreams," she said bitterly. "But those dreams were stolen from me by a blood mage named Jowan. I was given a choice of joining the Grey Wardens or being sent to prison. I undertook a ritual that could have killed me, and spent the next few months making decisions and doing things that I will forever be ashamed of and horrified at," she said as a tremor crept into her voice, "because it was expected of me! I killed – I _killed _people Nathaniel - and watched countless others die, and I slew the Archdemon, believing I would die as I did so, because it was expected of me!"

She took a few deep breaths and continued. "Then, barely days after the battle with the Archdemon, the titles of Warden-Commander and Arlessa were foisted upon me, when all I wanted to do was hide away and weep for a week!" she cried, tears running down her face. "But I did my duty, Nathaniel. I did it, because it was expected of me!

The man I loved became King, and I was told we could no longer be together because, due to an accident of birth, I am not a noblewoman! So I had to accept it, for the good of Ferelden!

I'm 22 years old, Nathaniel," she repeated, "and I know I will not live beyond my forties. When I do die, it will be alone, in a dark cave underground, at the hands of the darkspawn. Who knows? I may even be turned into a Broodmother! When do I get some happiness, Nathaniel?" she shouted. "I'm sick and tired of doing what is expected of me!"

Nathaniel's normally composed demeanour was shattered as he gaped at her. "I-I had no idea you felt that way, Gabby," he said quietly as he rose from his chair, the colour drained from his face. "You're right, though," he added. "You've done your duty, Maker knows."

"I-I just can't do it," she faltered. "I can't watch him walk down the aisle with another woman, Nathaniel, I just can't."

He grasped his chin with one hand and rested his other against his thigh, drumming his fingers; a sign he was deep in thought. "Expectations be hanged," he muttered. "If you want to stay here, Gabby, I will stay with you. For as long as it takes."

Gabby walked over to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. "Thank you," she said simply. "Thank you."

Composing themselves, they exited the office and found Ser Smyth.

"We will both be staying," Gabby informed him. "For as long as it takes."


	6. A point of honour

**Thank you so much to everyone for their reviews and PMs. They really mean a lot to me :)**

**A special hi to Lisa and Carrie, thanks for your kindness. Lisa, everyone gets what they deserve in the end, and so will we. :)**

**Special thanks as always to my dear friend and Beta Reader Jen, for your input, for keeping me sane and for being my rock. :-***

**~O~**

_Cullen bit his lip and arched his back as a low moan __escaped his lips__; this was all he __had ever wanted – **she** was all he had ever wanted. He gazed down at his lover through eyes hazy with desire, longing to see the same passion from her. She lay__ with her arms casually arranged above her head, and Cullen's blood froze in his veins as he realised she was staring to her side, completely disinterested._

"_Gabby," he panted, as he grasped one of her hands and rained kisses down her neck, longing for the woman he loved to feel pleasure at his touch. She did not move or make a sound. He felt the heat that had been building in his hips wither away and die, replaced by numbness. "Gabby," he cried. "What's wrong?"_

_She sighed and turned to face him, __her eyes lighting up as they met his__. She laughed breathlessly and pulled him down into a fierce kiss. Her muffled cries filled his mouth and hummed __joyfully__ along the length of his body. He pulled back, overjoyed at her response. "Oh, Gabby…" he began, then once again stopped cold as he spoke with a voice he did not recognise._

_He suddenly found himself looking up through her eyes; he was not there, lying atop her, but had been replaced by another man. A handsome, clean-shaven, sandy-haired man. "Oh, Gabby," the man murmured. "You are so beautiful," he whispered as he plunged into her, taking her lips greedily as he pounded her into the bed._

"_Alistair!" she squealed, throwing her head back and clawing at his back. "Oh, Alistair!" _

He woke suddenly, the stone expanse of the ceiling filling his vision. From outside, he could hear the sounds of clashing metal and occasional laughter. Rising to his feet, he padded over to the window and looked out over the training yard. Several Templars stood around in a loose circle as one of their fellow Knights, Ser Richardson, fought with a man Cullen had never seen before. He was of above average height and solidly built, his long black hair braided to keep it off his face. He fought with two daggers, and was obviously highly skilled.

Cullen's attention wandered for a moment as the memory of his dream returned to him, and a seed of jealousy and resentment firmly took root within him. He was snapped back to reality as Ser Richardson was sent tumbling to the ground, and lay sprawled on his back, laughing. The black-haired man proffered his hand and helped Richardson to his feet, talking animatedly to someone outside Cullen's range of vision.

Then, from the left, a small female wearing a bright blue robe appeared. Her hair was piled atop her head, and gleamed like burnished gold in the sun. A staff was strapped to her back. Cullen's eyes narrowed as she turned toward the black-haired man and laughed, her face clearly visible.

Cullen stepped back from the window, and stood rooted to the spot as he felt the walls of his room begin to close in around him. He rubbed his face vigorously and walked back toward his bed, feeling hot and cold simultaneously as he began to perspire. He sat down and looked at the floor. The imperfections and lines in the stone threw the image of her face back at him.

He stood again and walked over to the window, looking down at his feet. Slowly, taking deep breaths, he looked up and out of the window, unable to help himself.

They were all laughing. She pointed her staff toward some of the Knights in a mock-threatening gesture, said something, and they laughed again. The black-haired man put his arm around her shoulder and gave it a brotherly squeeze; she in turn wrapped her arm around his waist.

_Another man? _He thought with dismay, misunderstanding; his chest rising and falling rapidly. _I thought she was with the King! _He craned his neck to get a clearer view. She stood in the centre of the circle of men, holding court. His fingernails clawed against the stone wall as she and the Templars fell about laughing.

He backed away from the window once more, shaking his head in disbelief. _She doesn't care what anyone thinks, does she?_ he thought with disgust. _She…she's nothing but a whore! _The seed of jealousy sprouted and insinuated its way into his consciousness; it was now a real and living part of him.

"All of those things she said to me," he bleated to himself in a bitter soliloquy, "were nothing but lies."

His heart thumped as he reached for his chainmail suit and began to dress. The thought of seeing her again terrified, yet excited him; repelled, yet seduced him. He donned his heavy plate and skirts, left his quarters and headed downstairs toward his office. Although every fibre of his being screamed at him to turn back, warned him that she was no good, and that seeing her would cause him nothing but sorrow, still his body continued its journey downstairs, as though his will was no longer his own.

~O~

"I was very pleased with today's session," Ser Smyth commented as he and the two Wardens left the training yard.

"Yes, indeed," replied Nathaniel. "Some of your Knights show great promise. The Commander and I will select some for further testing tomorrow, won't we…" he stopped as he glanced at Gabby, who appeared to be in a world of her own. "Commander?" he intoned.

"Oh, erm…yes, tomorrow," she replied blankly.

"Perhaps you should retire, Warden-Commander?" Smyth suggested. "Warden Howe and I can go over the list of names."

Gabby sighed wearily. "No, we'll get it done more quickly between the three of us," she replied. "Besides," she added, "that chair in your office is very comfortable."

Ser Smyth chuckled. "Very well," he said. "To the office, then."

As they walked the corridors of the first floor, Nathaniel and Gabby dropped back slightly as Ser Smyth spoke to various personnel. "What's wrong, Gabby?" Nathaniel asked discreetly.

"I-I don't know," she replied. "I just feel…disquieted, for some reason."

"Is this the 'mage's intuition' you and Anders told me about?" he asked. "I thought you were having me on."

"Actually, we were," she replied with a sly grin. "But…" she sighed and shook her head. "Take no notice of me. It has been a tiring day."

"Well, we'll get this list drawn up as quickly as possible," Nate promised, "then it's an early night for you."

"Yes, boss," she teased as they smiled at one another.

Finally, they reached the office. Ser Smyth took out his keys, intending to unlock the door. "That's odd," he muttered. "It's unlocked." He opened the door warily, stopping in his tracks. Cullen sat at his desk, writing.

"Knight-Commander?" Smyth asked in surprise. "I thought you were supposed to be resting?"

Gabby, who stood behind Smyth and Nathaniel, felt her stomach tighten almost painfully as she heard Cullen speak. "This is my office, is it not?" he snapped. "I have things to do."

Smyth reluctantly ushered the Wardens in. "I may as well introduce you, Ser," he said nervously. "This is Senior Warden Nathaniel Howe…"

Cullen looked up from his writing. Before him stood the black-haired man Cullen had seen _touching _Gabby in the training yard. He was very striking, with pale skin, a hawk-like nose and startling grey eyes. "How do you do," Nathaniel greeted him, extending his hand. Cullen reached up and shook it perfunctorily. The Warden had a strong grip. The kernel of jealousy within Cullen branched out and flourished; its roots deep and strong.

"And this is Warden-Commander Surana," Smyth announced, feeling his stomach lurch as he stepped aside.

Gabby took a hesitant step forward. "Hello, Cullen," she said quietly, wringing her hands. "It's good to see you again." Cullen nodded his head almost imperceptibly without meeting her eyes. Nathaniel noted with distaste that the Knight-Commander had not risen to his feet when she had entered the room.

Gabby was anxious, and when she felt anxious, she babbled. "This is surreal, isn't it, Cullen?" she said nervously. "Not so long ago, you and I were just plain Gabby and Cullen, and now look at us!" she laughed. "Knight-Commander and Warden-Commander! Isn't that…"

"What do you want?" Cullen rudely interrupted, still unable to look her in the eye. His words fell flat against the ensuing silence. Nathaniel folded his arms and stared intently at the Knight-Commander.

"Did I say something to offend you, Warden Howe?" Cullen asked acerbically.

"Ser," Smyth cut in hastily, "we wanted to use your office. Now we know you are here, we will go elsewhere."

"Yes, I do find you offensive, actually," Nathaniel said pointedly, ignoring Smyth. "As a Knight and purported gentleman, you of all people should know how to properly address a lady, and to stand when in her presence," he seethed.

"Nathaniel, it's…" Gabby began, clutching his arm.

"A lady?" Cullen interrupted and laughed sardonically, rising to his feet. "I hardly think she qualifies. After all, she has a different man on her arm each time I see her," he spat.

An absolute, weighty silence fell. Ser Smyth closed his eyes and shook his head; Gabby was too taken aback to speak. She felt deeply wounded at his words, but also felt something else; something she was at the present time too stunned to cogitate.

Nathaniel, never taking his intense gaze off Cullen, slowly walked around to the other side of the desk, standing less than a foot away from him.

Gabby and Ser Smyth gasped as Nathaniel delivered a robust slap to Cullen's cheek; a blow meant more to humiliate than to injure. Cullen staggered back, clutching his face, his mouth agape. Nathaniel then removed one of his leather gloves and threw it to the ground.

"Ser," he challenged. "You have impugned my good friend's reputation and virtue. I demand satisfaction!"

"No, wait!" cried Gabby, stepping forward. "What are you doing?"

Ser Smyth grabbed Gabby's arm and shook his head. Cullen and Nathaniel stood staring fixedly at one another. "Then you shall have it, Ser," Cullen sneered, bowing mockingly. "Choose your weapon."

"Longsword, no shields," Nathaniel replied unwaveringly, not once taking his eyes off Cullen.

"Agreed," said Cullen, making his way out of the office. "The training yard. One hour," he instructed. "Bring your second with you," he added, brushing past Gabby as he left. "Smyth!" he barked.

Gabby suddenly realised what else she had felt; a brief glimmer of hope. If Cullen was so perturbed at the thought of her being with other men, perhaps he still cared for her in some way?

She reached out with her hand as Cullen passed by; she wanted to touch his arm or his chest, anything to make him stop in his tracks and look her in the eye. She was certain that if she could only get him to do that, it would be a _start_; however, as he walked away, her hand was already closed, and she hung her head, bitterly disappointed at her cowardice.

"As I will be acting as Knight-Commander Cullen's second," Smyth whispered hastily, "it would be inappropriate for us to speak for now. Fear not," he added, "you will be treated fairly. Have you a Longsword, Ser?" he asked.

"I have," Nathaniel answered. Ser Smyth nodded curtly and turned on his heel, catching up to Cullen.

"I'm going to need you to act as my second, Gabby," Nathaniel informed her.

"Erm, Nathaniel?" she asked fearfully, knowing there was no point trying to persuade a nobleman to back out of a duel. "Is this going to be a fight to the death?"

"No," he smiled wanly. "It will be fought until first blood is drawn, or until one of us is too exhausted to continue," he reassured her.

She nodded shakily. "What do I need to do?" she asked, wide-eyed.

"Come," he said. "We shall go to my quarters and I will give you full instructions." Seeing how unnerved she was, he stood in front of her and gently clasped her arms. "This must be done, Gabby," he explained. "It's a point of honour. He cannot be permitted to speak of you in such a way."

"Please don't hurt him," Gabby pleaded. "I know you could best him whilst blindfolded, Nathaniel." She knew that he was adept with a wide range of weapons, and was an accomplished fencer.

"I have no wish to hurt anyone, Gabby," he answered firmly. "But the man needs to learn some manners." He paused for a moment and softened his voice. "I will go easy on him," he promised.

~O~

_Code Duello _was in common practice throughout Ferelden, and, once a challenge had been issued, neither party could back down without bringing shame and ignominy upon one's self. The authorities tended to turn a blind eye to the practice, so long as duels were fought away from public places, and any evidence was destroyed.

The two parties stood a distance away from each other in the training yard. It was early evening and darkness had begun to fall; several small fires were lit around the perimeter of the yard to provide light.

Senior Enchanter Simon had been appointed Arbiter of the duel. He had arbitrated past disputes between Templars and was considered neutral and fair. He measured out a fighting area 20 paces square, and dropped a handkerchief, held in place by a small rock, at each corner to signify the boundaries of the square; any participant stepping outside the boundary would forfeit in disgrace for cowardice.

A healing mage stood ready to treat any injuries incurred, and a handful of Senior Templars had been called to act as witnesses.

"Seconds!" called Simon. Following Nathaniel's earlier instructions, Gabby walked over to meet Smyth and the Arbiter in a neutral area. Here the Seconds would examine their opponent's weapon and express any concerns. Gabby insisted that Cullen remove his heavy plate as Nathaniel was only wearing light armour, to which Smyth capitulated. They exchanged swords and checked for notches, barbs, enchantments and traces of poison. Both satisfied with the weapons, they exchanged them once more. Ser Smyth quietly asked Gabby is she was well; she thanked him and informed him that she would be, once this was over.

The Seconds returned to their respective combatants. Ser Smyth whispered something to Cullen, who glared at him momentarily, then proceeded to remove his plate armour and skirt, leaving only his chainmail. He was still more heavily armoured than Nathaniel.

"He doesn't look too sure of himself, does he?" Nathaniel noted as they glanced over at Cullen, who was practising his sword technique with Smyth.

"That's because he doesn't usually fight with a longsword," Gabby replied. "He fights with a Claymore."

"Then why in the world did he agree to the longsword?" Nathaniel wondered.

"Pride, I suppose," she mumbled. "Nathaniel," she said earnestly, "this is going to be a one-sided contest. Please, don't…" she shrugged her shoulders, "you know."

"My dear," Nathaniel reassured her. "I am no barbarian. And I do not presume for one moment that the duel will be one-sided. Cullen has righteous anger as an additional weapon, rightly or wrongly," he stated. "I would be a fool to underestimate him.

I simply mean to teach him some manners. One useful thing father instilled in me was how to properly treat a lady." He sighed and looked at the ground.

"Nathaniel," she murmured, cupping his cheeks with her hands, "you are not your father. Say after me," she said in an oft-repeated mantra.

He grinned widely. "I am not my father," he affirmed. "Now, you'd best take your hands off me, lest we inflame Cullen further still," he warned.

Gabby cast a sly glance over toward Cullen and Smyth. They had stopped sparring and Cullen was watching them intently. "I'm not going to pretend I'm not your friend," she said firmly.

"Ser Cullen! Ser Howe! Take your places," Senior Enchanter Simon instructed. Nathaniel nodded once to Gabby and walked over to the fighting area.

Senior Enchanter Simon stepped forward. "This duel will be fought according to the rules and principles of Code Duello," he stated. "The duel will be fought to first blood, or until such a time either Healer Marsh or I call a halt to proceedings.

Both participants will conduct themselves in a civilised, dignified and sportsmanlike manner at all times. If I believe one party has conducted themselves dishonourably, I will end the duel and declare the dishonourable party the loser. Furthermore," he added, "Healer Marsh may call an end to proceedings should be believe that either party is too exhausted to go on, or that for them to fight further would cause serious harm.

And finally," he stated, "both Healer Marsh and I may call an end to proceedings for any other valid reason not previously stated. In this instance, the Seconds will be consulted.

Ser Howe," he said, turning to Nathaniel, "as the challenger, you may at any time end the duel without bloodshed should you feel honour has been satisfied." Nathaniel nodded.

"I trust these terms are agreeable to both parties?" said Simon.

"They are," Gabby agreed.

"I agree," Ser Smyth concurred.

"Then take your places, gentlemen," Simon instructed. Cullen shifted awkwardly, incorrectly grasping the hilt of his sword with both hands.

Nathaniel tapped his sword vertically against his forehead and bowed before assuming a standard defensive stance. Cullen did not return the salute.

"En Guarde!" called Nathaniel.

Cullen rolled his shoulders and shook his arms out as he warily circled his opponent, who had not changed his stance, nor moved, except to follow Cullen's position. All noblemen of Ferelden were raised knowing the intricacies of duelling; another thing Nathaniel's father had taught him was never to strike the first blow, and to defend at first; this would tire the opponent and allow Nathaniel to ascertain his rival's style.

Riled by anger and frustration, Cullen hefted his sword and swung toward Nathaniel's chest; the Warden easily parried his clumsy manoeuvre and answered with a graceful riposte; two swift strikes directly aimed at Cullen's weapon, sending it flying from the Templar's hand and clattering to the ground.

Cullen stood aghast for a moment, believing the duel to be over as Nathaniel's sword pressed against his throat. Cullen had never fought a duel before; Nathaniel had fought and won several. The Templar watched with astonishment as Nathaniel sportingly lowered his sword and walked several paces away, allowing Cullen to retrieve his weapon.

They assumed stances once again. Cullen's armour and the surprising intensity of their brief skirmish had caused him to break into a heavy sweat. He looked over at his opponent, who appeared at ease and confident. Nathaniel adjusted his gloves as he waited for Cullen to make a move. The Templar looked at Nathaniel's hands as he did so, and imagined them running over Gabby's body, and her cries of pleasure from his touch.

He ran full pelt toward Nathaniel, yelling in vexation as he swung his sword wildly. Nathaniel was caught off-guard briefly, but managed to counter his attack with one of his own, which Cullen skilfully parried. Nathaniel noticed that Cullen was striking at the upper part of his body, leaving his own midsection open. In one fluid motion, Nathaniel dropped into a squat, turned quickly and slashed across the Templar's belly with his sword, forcefully enough to destroy several links of his chainmail.

"Halt!" called Simon. The two men withdrew as the Arbiter approached Cullen and lifted his coat of mail to examine the skin beneath. Cullen had sustained a painful-looking weal to his abdomen, but no blood had been drawn.

Simon returned to his original position. "Continue!" he instructed.

Now having the measure of his opponent, Nathaniel decided to go on the offensive. Barely giving Cullen time to compose himself, he stamped his foot in a startling Appel as he lunged forward, launching into a dizzying array of flicks and thrusts, his footwork nimble and fleet as he danced around the Templar.

Cullen furiously parried and attempted a counter-strike at Nathaniel's neck; their swords clashed as they both aimed for the same target. Cullen successfully parried but Nathaniel did not withdraw his arm as expected, answering instead with a skilful remise as he forcefully jabbed Cullen's shoulder with the pommel of his sword, sending the Templar off-balance and onto his back.

Nathaniel stood over him and held his sword to Cullen's throat. "Apologise, Ser," he rasped, "before I make a complete fool of you."

Cullen looked up into his opponent's cold grey eyes and knew he was defeated. "I apologise," he murmured. "I retract my ill-advised statement."

"Are you satisfied, Ser?" Simon asked Nathaniel.

"I am, Ser," he replied, stepping back and offering his hand to Cullen, which the Templar refused.

The witnesses returned inside, as did Healer Marsh, who had not been needed. Simon shook hands with the fighters and their Seconds, and congratulated Nathaniel on an honourably-fought contest.

Gabby checked Nathaniel for injuries, occasionally glancing over toward Cullen. The two Templars turned to head inside. As Cullen walked by, he looked over and caught Gabby's eye. The contrition in his eyes stole her breath, and for a brief moment, she saw a glimpse of the man she used to know, before the grim and hard mask returned to sully his features once again.

_It's a start_, she thought hopefully as he walked away.


	7. The starshaped pendant

**Thank you to everyone for your wonderfully kind reviews. I can't tell you how much they mean to me. **

**And Jen, my dear friend and Beta-Reader, how do you put up with me? I've developed the annoying habit of changing my chapters AFTER you've Beta-d them! So thank you for checking this one twice! You're truly the greatest! **

**~O~**

Cullen sat at the desk in his office, trying to catch up on his paperwork. He fidgeted uncomfortably in his chair; his body still ached from the duel, fought the previous evening. He looked down at his correspondence. He had been at his desk for more than an hour, and no matter how hard he tried, he could not concentrate on it. Instead, his thoughts kept turning to Gabby…no, the _Warden-Commander_. Thinking of her as _Gabby_ would make her too…real.

He sighed heavily and rubbed his eyes and temples, as though the actions would somehow push her out of his thoughts, but everything he attempted proved futile.

At first, he tried prayer and meditation to clarify and focus his mind; when that didn't work, he opened some of his letters and tried to read them, which proved impossible, as they all appeared to be written in a foreign language. Eventually, he gave up and thought back to the time before he became Knight-Commander, when life had been so much simpler. Thinking about that was far more preferable than thinking of the present, and his humiliation and shame at recent events.

"Come in," he said quietly as a knock sounded at his office door.

The door opened slowly. The _Warden-Commander_ stood in the doorway, wearing a moss green and cream robe. Her red-gold hair was worn down, and just skimmed her shoulders. It was shorter than he remembered. She hesitated and did not enter. Cullen immediately cast his eyes downwards.

"Am I disturbing you, Knight-Commander?" she asked warily.

"No," he said abruptly, then softened his voice a little. "How may I assist you?" he asked formally, choosing his words very carefully, his eyes firmly on his desk.

"I just thought I'd let you know that we have selected three of your Knights as potential Grey Warden candidates," she informed him, "and, with your leave, we'd like for them to accompany us back to Vigil's Keep."

"I thought Smyth was handling this," he muttered, absentmindedly shuffling a few papers around.

"Ser Smyth is off-duty," she reminded him, "and I thought you would want to know."

"Thank you," he said stiffly, desperate for her to leave.

She remained in the doorway. "I, um…I just wanted to say that there are no hard feelings about, you know...yesterday," she said softly, understanding why he had behaved in such a horrid manner.

_What's she up to?_ he thought. _Why does she even want to speak to me after what I said about her?_

"And," she continued, "Nathaniel is my friend. In fact, he's like a brother to me," she added. "And a father, actually," she quipped, with a nervous laugh.

_Why do I need to know this? Who's she trying to convince?_ he wondered suspiciously. _What does she want from me?_

"Well, that's all I wanted to say," she mumbled, toying with her fingers.

Cullen quickly glanced behind her; Howe was not with her. He noticed something glinting around her neck, and his eyes travelled to it briefly. It was a star-shaped pendant on a silver chain. He stared at it with his mouth wide open; then, suddenly realising what he was doing, grabbed a stack of letters and shuffled them, trying to look busy.

"Oh…this?" she said with surprise, looking down at the pendant. "Er, yes…I had it repaired."

She stood there for a moment, not knowing what to say. Cullen could feel her eyes on him and gulped, feeling irritated.

_Why is she not leaving?_

Gabby cleared her throat. "I, um…I suppose I'd better leave you to your work," she murmured, stepping back and closing the door.

Cullen stared at the door, surrendering himself to his memories as she departed, wishing that she'd stayed.

_He stood in the draughty corridor, shifting nervously from foot to foot. The time was just after breakfast – the time of day she always passed by, on her way to her lessons. He would hear her singing or humming to herself long before he saw her; she had a beautiful voice, which he would carry around inside his head for the remainder of the day._

_He removed a gauntlet and touched his forehead to ensure he wasn't perspiring, and smoothed down his hair, which he kept very short because it was naturally curly and became unruly when it grew too long. He touched his cheek and winced at the shaving burn there. He'd woken up late, and had hurriedly shaved using a blunt blade. She would notice, and would probably try to…touch it. An exquisite shiver ran down his back at the very thought of her hands being on him, and he took a deep breath as he attempted to calm himself._

_He looked down the corridor and frowned. She was late. He sighed and looked at his feet, feeling a pang of disappointment. His day would be the poorer for not having seen her._

"_You'd best be quick, Miss," he heard a voice warn from around the bend of the corridor. Gabby then appeared, flanked by two Templars. Her eyes were red and swollen. Cullen's stomach knotted painfully. _

"_What's going on?" he demanded._

_The Templars stopped, as did Gabby. She stared at the floor, unable to meet his eyes. "She's got to get her things," one of the Templars replied. "She's to be out of here as soon as possible."_

"_Out of here? What do you mean?" Cullen asked sharply._

"_Look, we can't stop," the other Templar said, glancing around. "We have to escort her to her quarters to fetch her belongings. We don't have time to explain. Greagoir wants her gone." As they continued up the corridor, Gabby burst into tears._

_Horrified, Cullen risked Greagoir's wrath by leaving his post and following them. "Alright, you can tell me what's going on as we walk," he said to the other Templars._

"_Cullen, what are you doing?" one of the Knights whispered._

"_Just tell me!" he insisted._

_One of the Templars dropped back a little. "She's got to go to Ostagar with the Grey Wardens," he mumbled._

"_She's fighting with the King's army?" Cullen asked hopefully; that would mean there was a chance of her returning._

"_No," the Templar replied. "She's joining the Grey Wardens. She won't be coming back," he said, understanding the meaning behind Cullen's question. "This is for the best, Cullen," he said pointedly, returning to walk alongside Gabby. Cullen's stomach lurched and his legs suddenly felt weak. He had to fight to retain his composure, and against the impulse to scoop her up in his arms and flee from the Tower._

_As they approached her quarters, Cullen cut in ahead of his fellow Templars. "Give us a moment, please," he begged as Gabby went inside. _

_The two Knights __glanced__ at one another. "Make it quick, then," one of them hissed. "Greagoir will hang us by our balls if he finds out!"_

_Cullen entered her quarters and closed the door. She had her back to him, her head in her hands. He stood there helplessly, his hand reaching toward her, yearning to touch her, then immediately retracting, as he feared the outcome of his actions. She turned around to face him, and the sorrow in her eyes broke his heart._

"_I-I won't be coming back, Cullen," she stammered, her tone fractured and halting. She reached behind her head and unclasped her necklace; a simple silver chain with a star-shaped pendant attached to it. Cullen had always admired it. "I want you to have this," she whispered, pressing it into his gauntleted palm. "To remember me by."_

_Cullen felt a sharp, smarting pain at the back of his throat; his mouth slackened and his other arm hung impotently at his side. "I…I can't," he whispered._

"_Please," she implored, closing his fist around the necklace with her hand. "I'm going to miss you so much, Cullen," she said, her voice breaking as she looked up at him with unshed tears in her eyes. "Seeing you in the mornings is the high point of my day." She turned her back on him so he wouldn't see her tears fall, and started to take items of clothing out of her drawers._

_**It's now or never,**__ he thought, and took a step forward, taking hold of her arms and moving her round to face him. __He took a deep, shaky breath, leaned down__, and placed a chaste kiss on her cheek, tasting her salty tears as he did so. "Please stay safe, Gabby," he pleaded softly, pulling her into an embrace. There they stayed for several minutes, knowing they would never see each other again; the thought of it causing stinging tears to spring to his eyes. He pulled away from her. "I…I-I have to go," he stammered, his face contorted as he swallowed hard and turned away from her._

"_I'll never forget you, Cullen," she promised as he opened the door and made a brisk exit. He would not let her see him cry._

He blinked several times as the reality of his office bled into his reverie. He took a deep breath and exhaled as he looked at his letters, one of which caught his eye; the Therein seal was embossed on the back of the envelope.

He took his letter opener, slit the envelope open, and slid the letter out.

_Dear Knight-Commander Cullen,_

_It is with a full heart I write to inform you of His Majesty The King's forthcoming marriage to Miss Elissa Cousland, and I cordially invite you to attend. You will find dates and times at the foot of the letter._

_I am sure that you must be very busy, but I know His Majesty would appreciate your attendance, as, of course you are aware, The King was once a member of your Order._

_I look forward to seeing you._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Eamon Guerrin, Regent to His Majesty, King Alistair Therein_

Cullen frowned and read the letter again. _Elissa Cousland? _he thought, his eyes narrowing as an unpleasant churning sensation assailed his stomach. _But I thought…_

He leaned forward and put his head in his hands.

_You were wrong about her, weren't you? You bloody fool. _He shuddered inwardly at the thought of what he had said to her the previous day.

He closed his eyes and allowed himself to remember _that _memory. The one he had tried so hard to forget. The one he had continually pushed aside. He was suddenly so disgusted with himself he felt he _deserved _to relive it, he _deserved _the pain it brought him.

_"It's over, Cullen. Uldred's dead."_

_He sat on the floor with his knees drawn up and his face buried in his folded arms. He felt a __tiny__ hand __gently__ stroke through his hair, and looked up into her green eyes. He flinched at her touch, and tried to __inch__ away from her, but he was so weak he could barely move._

"_Shhh," she soothed. "It's alright, it's only me."_

_The other Warden – Alistair – retrieved Cullen's skirt and draped it over his legs, as he was naked from the waist down. He looked at the five Templar corpses scattered around the chamber and glanced at Gabby, shaking his head. "We need to get him away from here, Gabs," he whispered._

_Cullen's body started to tremble and his face twisted with anguish as he began to sob loudly. Gabby cradled his head in her arms and pulled him down onto her shoulder. "It's over, Cullen," she__ repeated __gently. Cullen wrapped his arm around her waist and tightly gripped the back of her robe as he cried piteously against her neck. Gabby laid her head against his and stroked his face, looking up at Alistair._

"_Let's get him out of here, Gabs," he suggested again._

_Although Gabby's healing magic was poor, being a specialist in the school of Entropic magic, she guessed she could give him enough to get him onto his feet. "I'm going to Rejuvenate you, Cullen," she informed him as a faint blue light travelled from her hands to his face, then along his body, before dissipating._

_The image of her, naked and gyrating atop him, laughing mockingly, flashed through his mind. He suddenly broke away from her and scooted backwards. "What are you doing?" he cried in horror, a wild and hysterical look in his eyes._

"_I was just…" she began._

"_Don't touch me again, mage!" he yelled, his eyes frantically darting around the room. Alistair shook his head and shrugged at Gabby, and offered his hand to Cullen, who took it; and pulled him up to his feet. Cullen then donned his skirt to preserve his modesty._

_Gabby also rose to her feet. "Cullen?" she whispered, taking a __hesitant__ step forward._

_"Stay back!" he yelled, highly distraught at the sensation of her magic, which still lingered on his skin._

"_She's just trying to help you," Alistair said with irritation in his voice._

"_No!" he cried, backing away from them both, almost falling over one of the corpses. "She's been up there. Who knows what they did to her! Who knows what they put inside her!" he ranted._

"_They didn't put anything inside her!" Alistair shouted. "I was there! You need to get a hold of yourself!" _

"_Oh, I have, believe me!" Cullen said harshly, nodding his head. "I've finally come to my senses! I used to think mages were people, like you and I, but they're not! They're evil and wicked and should be put down at birth!"_

_Gabby gasped and covered __her mouth with her hands__ as tears slid down her cheeks. Alistair, furious, was torn between knocking Cullen out cold and comforting Gabby. Her anguished cry made the decision for him, and he gathered her into his arms, staring hatefully at Cullen, who made his way toward the steps leading to the Harrowing Chamber._

"_Oh, and she can have this back," he sneered, as he reached under his __coat of mail__ and roughly yanked at a chain around his neck, snapping it, and throwing it at Alistair. "I can't believe I once…" Cullen shook his head, his lip curled in disgust. He turned away and suppressed another sob as his face crumpled._

"_Get out of here before I kill you, you bloody lunatic!" Alistair yelled at him._

"_I'm going!" Cullen spat as he ascended the steps. "Just get __**her **__out of here! I never want to see her again!"_

_As Cullen entered the Harrowing Chamber, Alistair tenderly kissed Gabby's forehead and stroked her hair. He looked down to see what Cullen had thrown at him. It was a star-shaped pendant, on a broken silver chain._

_Cullen stared coldly at Uldred's prone form as he closed the door behind him. He looked around the Harrowing Chamber. Everyone, including the mages, were dead. He took a discarded dagger from the floor and dropped to his knees beside Uldred's body, bringing it down furiously, stabbing at the blood mage's heart over and over again, a deranged and inarticulate cry filling the Chamber._

_He finally collapsed onto his back, exhausted and utterly bereft. As he stared blankly at the ceiling, he realised that the deranged cry had been his own. He closed his eyes and allowed the silence and the shadows to fill him, and prayed for death to take him swiftly._

Cullen gritted his teeth and doubled over in his chair, wrapping his arms around himself as tears spilled from his eyes. "Maker help me," he wailed pitifully. "What am I going to do?"

~O~

"You lot must think your birthday and Feastday have come at once!" Gabby joked to the Templars in the training yard. "You get to do your favourite thing - attack a mage - without any danger of a demon popping out of me!" A ripple of laughter spread throughout the yard. The mood was relaxed and pleasant, and they had been blessed with fine weather.

"Ser Richardson," Gabby called. She and Nathaniel had been very impressed with him, and he had made it onto their shortlist of three candidates. "Let's see how you fare against some _real _competition," she teased, winking at Nathaniel, who stood with the Templars. He snorted and shook his head.

Ser Richardson removed his helm and stepped forward. "At your service, madam," he said politely, bowing to her.

Gabby smiled and bowed back. "Let's have a little contest, shall we?" she proposed. "Let's see how quickly you can dispel my casting. Don't drain my mana, though."

"Understood," Richardson replied.

Nathaniel watched with amused bewilderment as Richardson and Gabby appeared to engage in a curious dance of sorts, comprising a lot of jerky arm movements and occasional cursing from both of them. Now and again, a spark of lightning would appear between them, or Gabby's hands would become coated in frost as she attempted a spell; Richardson, however, was too fast for her, and the effects would disappear almost immediately.

"That's enough!" Gabby laughed. They halted their strange dance and Ser Richardson bowed to her again before returning to his fellows. Gabby raised her eyebrows and nodded ostentatiously at Nathaniel.

"Ser Ballard," she invited. A young Templar with dark brown hair and brilliant blue eyes stepped forward. Although he had not made it onto the shortlist, there was something about him that Gabby liked. He was quiet, shy and modest, and his swordsmanship was very promising, considering he had only recently taken his final vows. Gabby guessed him to be 18 or 19 years old. Although she had not voiced it to Nathaniel, he reminded her a great deal of Cullen, at least Cullen as he once was.

A few more Templars filtered into the yard, having just come off duty. Most of them still wore their helms.

"Same again, Ser Ballard," she instructed. He bowed shyly, a little flush creeping into his cheeks. Nathaniel grinned to himself. _He's taken a fancy to her, _he thought with amusement.

Ballard and Gabby began alternately casting and dispelling. Unfortunately, Ser Ballard was not as fast as Ser Richardson, and Gabby caught him on the arm a few times with a mild Lightning Bolt, although she did note that he bore the sharp pain very well. She called a halt and laid her hands on his arm, healing him. "Get a proper healer to take a look at that later on," she recommended.

The small crowd of Templars applauded him, and a couple of the older Knights ruffled his hair as he returned to them, grinning.

Gabby tested the other candidates on their dispelling abilities, and a few other Templars asked to have a go, just for the fun of it.

"And now," Gabby announced dramatically, "the moment you've all been waiting for. You get to Smite the mage!"

A good-natured cheer arose around the yard. "Ser Willoughby," Gabby called, inviting another of the three shortlisted candidates to join her. He stepped forward and bowed, unable to conceal his grin.

"You can wipe that smirk off your face, Ser Willoughby," Gabby chided.

"Yes, Miss," he replied cheekily, trying in vain to hide his amusement.

"Now, remember," Gabby reminded him, "not a full Smite. Just enough to drain my mana. I don't want to be knocked unconscious!"

"Nobody's going to knock you out with him around!" a Templar called out from the crowd, pointing to Nathaniel. Another laugh erupted. Nathaniel rolled his eyes and smiled crookedly. He walked over to Gabby and stood behind her in case she needed some support; the Smite would not affect him.

"Whenever you're ready," Gabby said to Ser Willoughby. He nodded, his expression becoming serious. What she had asked him to do was quite challenging; a full Smite was second nature to him, but a restrained one took much more effort and concentration.

He thrust his arms out toward Gabby as his palms began to glow. "Brace yourself!" he warned. A burst of white light left his palms and hit the ground just in front of Gabby, radiating outward like a ripple in a pond. She swayed a little and clutched her head; Nathaniel steadied her and Ser Willoughby ran over to her.

"Are you alright?" he asked, crouching down and looking intently into her eyes.

"I'm fine, just a little dizzy," she replied as Nathaniel handed her a lyrium potion. She drank it and gestured for another. Her head fell back against her shoulders as she felt warmth and vigour surge through her. "That's better," she nodded. "Very well done, Ser Willoughby," she commended him. "An expertly controlled Smite."

He bowed graciously and returned to his fellow Templars as Gabby took a few minutes. She and Nathaniel talked quietly as they considered Ser Ballard as a fourth candidate. Although he was young and had a lot to learn, they both agreed that he showed great promise, and, like the other shortlisted candidates, demonstrated an equitable disposition toward mages. They decided that if he performed well in the Smite demonstration, they would approach him with an offer to join the Wardens.

"Ser Ballard," she called. "Let's see what you can do."

The shy youngster stepped forward, trying to hide his nervousness, and silently praying to the Maker that he didn't hurt her.

"Whenever you're ready," Gabby said with a smile. "You'll do fine," she reassured him, sensing his anxiety.

Ser Ballard nodded and exhaled. He straightened his arms outwards toward Gabby, his palms facing outwards. A white glow radiated forth from his hands, and a burst of white light discharged from them to the ground. Gabby was hurled off her feet into Nathaniel's arms, who lowered her to the ground.

"Oh…" she groaned as she sat on her backside, clutching her stomach, "I think I'm going to be sick."

Ser Ballard's hands flew to his face. "I-I'm so sorry," he cried, clearly distressed at his miscalculation. "Is she alright?" he asked Nathaniel.

A helmed Templar suddenly broke through the crowd and seized Ser Ballard by his arms.

"That is the Warden-Commander of Ferelden, you cretin!" he yelled, slamming the terrified youth against a wall.

An uneasy silence fell over the training yard. Several Templars glanced at each other.

The Templar's voice, although muffled beneath his helm, was unmistakable. "Cullen?" Gabby mumbled blearily as Nathaniel poured a lyrium potion down her throat.

"You, and you!" Cullen barked, pointing at two random Knights. "Take him downstairs!" The two Templars reluctantly took Ser Ballard by his arms and led him away.

"You'll be alright, son," one of them whispered. "A week in the cells will fly by. Trust me, I know."

"Where are they taking him?" Gabby asked, struggling to her feet. "What are you going to do to him?" she demanded, turning to face Cullen.

Cullen, shaken by the intensity of his reaction to seeing Gabby in trouble, closed his eyes beneath his helm and concentrated on regaining control of himself. "That is not your concern, Warden-Commander," he responded loftily, turning his back on her and walking away.

Gabby ran ahead, shrugging off her dizziness, and stood directly in front of him, causing him to step back in alarm. "It was an accident!" she insisted. "He's done nothing wrong! What are you going to do to him?""

Cullen lowered his voice and leaned closer to Gabby. She could see his eyes glowing menacingly through his helm. "As I have just stated, _Warden-Commander_," he said derisively, "this is _none _of your business." He brushed past her and continued to walk away.

"We will either have this discussion in front of your men, _Knight-Commander_," she said acidly, placing her hands on her hips, "or we will have it in private. But we _will _have it!"

Cullen stopped walking. Gabby could see his tension in his hunched shoulders and balled fists. "Dismissed!" he ordered. The off-duty Templars turned and left the training yard. Only Nathaniel remained behind.

Gabby walked over to stand in front of Cullen. "Take that bloody helmet off!" she yelled, grabbing his helm and throwing it to the ground. It was all she could do to resist cuffing the back of his head. Cullen's face was blood red, and his eyes wandered to the side as soon as his helm was removed.

"Oh, so you're doing the 'I can't look you in the eye' thing again, are you?" she said with irritation in her voice. "Is that because you're ashamed of your actions? Because you _should_ damn well be ashamed!"

Cullen gulped and stood stiffly, steeling himself as he attempted, and failed, to look her squarely in the eyes, hating that he felt so out of control when she spoke to him.

"What's going to happen downstairs?" she demanded. "Are you going to flog him?"

Cullen took a step back, his eyes finally meeting hers, finding himself unable to look away. "What?" he asked incredulously.

"Oh, I've heard all about your summary justice, Cullen," she simmered. "In fact, I suspect the reason we had such a response to our recruitment sessions is that most of your Knights are desperate to get away from you!" she seethed.

"It was Smyth, wasn't it!" he guessed incorrectly. "_He_ told you!"

"No, actually," she said distastefully. "I haven't been able to turn a corner in this Tower without hearing mention of floggings. In fact, Ser Smyth is the only Templar I have met who has not yet spoken ill of you. You don't deserve his loyalty!" she stated firmly. "Now, I demand to know what you are going to do with Ser Ballard!"

"You are in no position to demand anything!" Cullen spat. "I have no intention of telling you anything!"

"Then you leave me with no recourse," Gabby said coldly, folding her arms. "I hereby conscript Ser Ballard into the Grey Wardens. You will turn him over to me immediately." Cullen gawked at her, his mouth and eyes wide.

Ser Smyth quietly entered the training yard; some of the Templars had informed him of what was happening. Nathaniel noticed his entrance, and walked over to join him.

"Conscript?" Cullen yelled. "Who the bloody hell do you think you are?"

"I am the Warden-Commander of Ferelden!" she reminded him angrily. "_That_ is who the bloody hell I think I am! Now do as I say!"

Cullen was seized by a sudden impulse to grab her by the shoulders; his heart hammered against his breastbone as adrenaline coursed through his blood. He took several deep breaths in an attempt to master himself. _I must stay in control! _he resolved. _I mustn't let her get under my skin again!_ _She's a __**mage!**_

Gabby felt herself shrink slightly as the intensity of Cullen's gaze bored through her, his eyes twitching and his mouth set in a hard line. He lowered his voice almost to a whisper. "Take Ballard, take _him," _he seethed, pointing at Nathaniel, "and get out of my Tower."

_This is for the best, _he tried to convince himself._ If she's gone, I can stay in control._

Gabby shook her head. "I'm not going anywhere until we've finished recruiting," she insisted.

Cullen's hands trembled as his emotions bubbled under, threatening to boil over at any moment. "There is no way in _Thedas_ I'm going to let you have any more of my Knights!" he shouted.

"Then I'll just have to conscript some more!" she snapped back at him.

The two of them stood glaring at one another, both intransigent and unyielding. It seemed that neither of them would back down, and that soon something was going to give.

"Well, they're communicating, at least," Nathaniel remarked in a dry aside to Ser Smyth.

Smyth sighed and clasped the back of his neck. "That's one way of looking at it, yes," he replied.

Gabby's face softened as she realised that Cullen had been looking into her eyes during the whole exchange. Her mouth opened slightly as she inhaled sharply; she'd almost forgotten how beautiful his eyes were. Cullen, unable to look at her now she was no longer angry, averted his gaze, letting it fall to her pendant. He stared at it for a few moments, his eyes misting over as he appeared to recall a distant memory. Without another word, he quietly moved aside and walked away from her.

"Ser Smyth," he instructed as he left the training yard, "release the prisoner to the Warden-Commander."


	8. The plan

**A genuine thank you to all who have reviewed, story-alerted or favourited.**

**And a big thank you to my always awesome Beta-Reader and friend, Jen, for rescuing some of my sentences, and for making me laugh :)**

**~O~**

Nathaniel escorted Gabby back to her quarters after the training session, and insisted she rest for a while; she still felt nauseous from Ser Ballard's over-enthusiastic Smite, and was clearly shaken after her furious exchange with Cullen. Nathaniel then headed to the basement with Ser Smyth to release Ser Ballard from his cell, and informed the young Templar of what had occurred, learning that the lad's first name was Connlaodh, or Conn for short. Conn was overjoyed and excited at the prospect of joining the Grey Wardens.

The door to Gabby's quarters opened slowly. "Gabby?" a voice whispered from the hallway.

"It's alright, Nathaniel, I'm awake," she answered. "Come in."

He entered and closed the door behind him. Gabby sat on top of her bed, reading.

"Sorry I didn't knock," Nathaniel explained, "I just didn't want to wake you if you were asleep. How do you feel?"

"Much better now, thank you," she replied, setting her book down and moving over to her table. Several sheets of vellum were scattered across it. "Perhaps I can concentrate better on these, now," she sighed.

"Tea?" Nathaniel offered.

"Of course!" she answered with a grin. Nathaniel passed her a small ewer of water, which she placed her hands around, and concentrated. Within seconds, steam rose from the ewer as the water started to boil. "Handy things, these mages," Nathaniel said cheekily with a wink. He took the pitcher back and began making the tea. "Who are you writing to?" he asked casually.

"Varel," she replied. "I thought I should let him know we'll be here for a while, and that we won't be attending the wedding." Nathaniel nodded and grunted approvingly.

"Anders said he wouldn't go to the wedding without us," he smirked as he poured the boiled water over some tea leaves and herbs wrapped in muslin. "He'll be crushed that he won't be able to wear that hideous turquoise and lime green monstrosity he'd saved for the occasion."

"I'll be sure to put an apology to Anders in it too, then," she said with a chuckle, "although _he_ should be the one apologising for his crimes against good taste."

Nathaniel sniggered to himself as Gabby reached for a second letter, and stared at it for a moment. She had only written one line so far: _Dear Alistair,_

"I'm also writing to the King," she blurted out, far more quickly than she had intended. Nathaniel stopped what he was doing and turned to face her.

"To inform him that we won't be attending?" he asked cautiously.

Gabby was silent for a moment, as she considered her words carefully. "Yes, that…" she said, then hesitated. "And, also to let him know that…I will no longer see him." She gulped at the finality of her words.

Nathaniel sat down on the chair next to her. "You're doing the right thing," he said softly.

He had never approved of her being Alistair's mistress – no, _courtesan_ - feeling she deserved, and needed, a far more stalwart and resolute man than Alistair Therein. Nathaniel had recently become betrothed, after falling in love with one of the villagers they had saved in Amaranthine; and wished for Gabby to find similar happiness, which she would never find with the King.

"If you don't mind me asking," he inquired quietly, "is there a particular reason you have chosen to do this now?"

Nathaniel's softly penetrating gaze and steady voice always had an effect on Gabby. She found herself telling him things that nobody else knew about her, nor would she ever want them to know. When alone with him, she ceased to be the Hero of Ferelden, or its Warden-Commander. She was simply Gabrielle Surana, a young, guileless elf who was still bewildered at the way her life had unfolded.

"I think you know, Nathaniel," she replied heavily.

"Cullen," he said simply.

"Alistair doesn't need me anymore," she reasoned. "He may think he does, but he has a new life now. Cullen…needs me, I think."

"And what about what _you _need?" Nathaniel asked pointedly. "Perhaps you should consider your own needs, before those of any others?"

She looked up at him. "I-I am, Nathaniel," she replied. "I…earlier on, when he and I were arguing, I…_felt_ something between us," she said quietly. "He's still there, the Cullen I used to know. I hadn't realised how much I'd missed him," she admitted, her voice fading to a whisper.

"You loved him, then," Nathaniel said concisely.

Gabby's stomach tightened at his words. "Yes…" she whispered, lowering her eyes. "I think I still do."

Nathaniel clasped her hand as a tear fell from her face onto the table. "When I think of all he's been through…I-I…" she mumbled, unable to finish her sentence.

"I know," he intoned. "Gabby," he said softly but firmly, "I want you to be careful. Cullen is obviously…was obviously _altered _by his experiences, perhaps irrevocably so."

Gabby raised her head and glanced at him momentarily. "I just…" he continued, "I think you should consider the possibility that he may never again be the man you once knew," he counselled. "And do not forget that the two of you can never have a conventional relationship. I'm sure you don't need me to remind you that you are a mage, and he, a Templar." He sighed and shook his head. "I'm sorry to state the obvious, Gabby," he said sincerely. "I just don't want you to be hurt, that's all."

Their eyes met; Gabby's expression was open and free from malice. "But I'm hurting now," she said unsteadily.

A knock sounded at the door. Gabby quickly dabbed at her eyes with her robe and glanced at Nathaniel, moving her face from side to side. Nathaniel examined her for traces of tears and, finding none, gave her a solemn thumbs-up.

"Come in," she answered, clearing her throat.

Ser Smyth entered. "Warden-Commander," he said with a bow, "I wanted to see how you were faring."

"Oh, that's very kind of you, Ser Smyth," Gabby replied with a forced smile. "Much better now, thank you."

"Would you care to join us?" asked Nathaniel, rising from his chair and offering it to Smyth. "We're just about to have some tea."

"Thank you very much," Smyth replied graciously as he sat down. "I'll bet your tea is a lot better than the muck they brew up here," he remarked.

"After tasting it, I'm inclined to agree," Gabby responded, wrinkling her nose. She leaned forward and clasped her hands. "How is Cullen?" she asked.

"Well," Smyth answered with a sly glance at Gabby. "That is another thing I wished to discuss with you."

"Oh?" she replied.

"Your presence here has had quite an astonishing effect on him, Warden-Commander," he commented. "The change in him since your arrival has been…well, something I could not have anticipated," he added, unable to find the words he was looking for.

"Forgive my candour, Knight-Lieutenant," Nathaniel said as he handed Smyth and Gabby a cup of tea, "but from what I have seen so far, Knight-Commander Cullen is ill-mannered, capricious and irascible. I'm not unsympathetic to what the man has been through," he added, seeing Gabby's frown, "but I fail to see…"

"You do not understand, Ser," Smyth countered respectfully. Nathaniel sat down with his tea and listened. "Not only has he spoken to, and accepted the presence of, Warden-Commander Surana," Smyth continued, "but since her arrival, he has also shown surprising contrition and restraint."

"Restraint?" Nathaniel questioned. "I wouldn't have called his treatment of Conn, restrained."

Ser Smyth nodded his head. "What you say is true, Warden Howe," he agreed, "however, had that occurred but a week ago, Ser Ballard's punishment would have been far more severe."

The three of them sat quietly for a few moments, sipping their tea. Ser Smyth broke the silence. "Warden-Commander…" he began.

"Please, call me Gabby," she insisted. "'Warden-Commander' is such a mouthful for you to keep saying."

"Nathaniel," Howe added, pointing to himself.

Ser Smyth grinned broadly. "That is very gracious of you both. As you wish," he agreed, "and you may call me Tristan." The Wardens smiled and nodded. "But…"

"Not in front of the men," Gabby finished his sentence with an understanding glance at the Templar.

"Precisely," Smyth replied with a smile and a slight bow of his head.

"Please, continue, Tristan," Gabby said, this time with a genuine smile.

"I must leave the Tower for a few days," he informed them. "A child living on a farm just on the outskirts of West Hill has been showing signs." He paused, taking a sip of tea.

"Signs?" asked Nathaniel.

"Signs of being a Magi," Gabby replied. "The Templars have to assess the child and bring them back to the Tower." She turned to Smyth. "Do you know what kind of magic the child has demonstrated?" she asked.

"Well, that is the interesting thing," Smyth replied. "As you know, we most commonly find children with innate healing or elemental powers," he said, giving Nathaniel a brief explanation of the different schools of magic. "However," he added, "this child is unusual. She has been hexing and cursing people who have displeased her, her parents included."

Gabby leaned forward in her chair. "You mean she has Entropic powers? Like me?" she asked enthusiastically.

"Yes, indeed," Smyth replied with a smile. "Entropic mages do not turn up every day, and especially not ones so young. She is only four years old."

"_Four_?" Gabby exclaimed.

Ser Smyth nodded his head. "We do not have a single mage in the Tower at present who is even remotely skilled in Entropy," he conceded, "except for you, Ward…Gabby. I think we have found our excuse for your continued presence at the Tower, now that your recruiting is almost complete."

"Surely you're not asking me to mentor the girl?" Gabby replied, with a stern tone in her voice.

"Of course not," Ser Smyth replied, holding his hands up. "You would never have the time to commit to that. All I propose is that you help her to settle in for her first few days here."

"Oh…I'd be happy to!" Gabby exclaimed. "But what would Cullen have to say about that?" she wondered aloud.

"Now there's another interesting thing," Smyth replied, raising his eyebrows. "I put the idea to him, and he did not object."

"And yet only a few hours ago, he told us to get out of his Tower," Nathaniel commented with a frown.

Ser Smyth pushed his chair back and rose to his feet. "I think he wants you to leave, and he wants you to stay," he said ambiguously. "Deep down, Gabby, I think he wants you to stay, although he would never admit it to me, or to himself. And now that the perfect reason for you to extend your stay has presented itself," he surmised, "he has no need to admit to anything."

Gabby nodded slowly, frowning slightly.

"Oh, Nathaniel," Smyth added, "I would like for Ser Bailey to accompany me on this trip," he stated, referring to the Wardens' third shortlisted candidate. "Is your testing complete?"

"Yes," Nathaniel replied. "He'll just miss out on a few sparring sessions, that's all. Which reminds me," he suddenly remembered, "I need to fetch my bow. I'm going to try our recruits out with it, and see if it suits any of them. Meredith Willoughby has long arms and strong shoulders, by the looks of him," he mused. "I have a feeling he'll take to it."

"A Templar archer?" Ser Smyth scoffed magnanimously. "Who would have thought it?"

"You are in the presence of Grey Wardens, Tristan," Gabby chuckled. "Suspension of disbelief is a pre-requisite when in their company."

"As I am beginning to see," Smyth replied warmly. "Well, I had better get ready for the trip," he said as he approached the door. "Thank you for the tea."

"Wait, I'll come down with you," Nathaniel offered. "Gabby will clear the cups away, won't you, dear?" He held his arms up in front of his face as a screwed up piece of vellum was launched at his head. "See you later," Nathaniel laughed as he followed Smyth.

"And I shall see you in a few days," Smyth said to Gabby with a polite bow.

"Have a safe trip," she replied. The door closed.

Gabby sank back in her chair and absent-mindedly examined her hands. So many things were going through her mind; the argument with Cullen, and Smyth's assertion that Cullen _wanted _her to remain at the Tower, which seemed at odds with what he'd said during their angry exchange.

At the forefront of her mind, however, was Ser Ballard. She had conscripted him hastily, in an attempt to save him from what she believed would be a flogging, only to discover that he had, in fact, been locked up in the cells. Or had she conscripted him just to rile Cullen? That thought did not sit well with her at all, and she questioned herself mercilessly, as she done so many times before, during and after the Blight.

Ser Ballard was so young, so innocent, and she had, with her rash action, possibly condemned him to death. At the very least, she had condemned him to a drastically shortened life with an uncertain future. The other three recruits – Bailey, Richardson and Willoughby – had enthusiastically volunteered, but although Ballard was also enthusiastic, she had not given him a choice, and that thought weighed heavily on her.

She had only ever conscripted one other person, Anders; and in doing so, had saved him from death by hanging, at the hands of an overzealous Templar. He had been tremendously grateful, and had gone on to become one of her best friends, along with Nathaniel. While Anders was the friend she had fun with, and often got into trouble with, Nathaniel was the friend she confided in, and who often got her _out_ of trouble.

She thought of Anders now, and wished he was there with them. He'd be sure to lift her spirits. With Nathaniel gone for the moment, she felt quite lonesome and dejected. Then a thought occurred to her: At least she _had _Nathaniel. With Smyth gone, whom did Cullen have? He refused to have anything to do with the mages in the Tower, and most of the Templars gave him a wide berth. Who did he have fun with, she wondered? Who did he confide in?

_It used to be me, _she thought sadly. She gathered her letters together and resolved to finish them. Then, she would have an excuse to pass Cullen's office on her way out to see Kester. She just had to think of an excuse to speak to him.

_Dearest Varel,_

_Nathaniel and I have recruited three Templars from the Circle Tower (yes, you read that correctly – TEMPLARS) and conscripted a further one. I'll explain when we arrive home._

_Speaking of which, we will be remaining at the Tower for a while longer, and therefore will not be able to attend the King's wedding…_

Gabby grimaced, and felt a pang of guilt, as she imagined Varel's long-suffering groan upon reading that sentence.

…_so please apologise to Anders for me, and tell him to put that damned robe back in his armoire, before ships start sailing toward the Keep at night! And, let's keep the Templar thing between us for now, yes? I can't wait to see the look on Anders' face when he sees us walk in accompanied by four of them!_

_Well, my dear friend, I can hear your poor overworked brain ticking away, so I will leave you in peace for now. I'll send word when we're due to return. I hope you're all well. We miss you all._

_Gabby and Nathaniel. (Or Commander and Warden Howe, as you will keep insisting on calling us!)_

She folded the letter and tucked it into an envelope, securing it with string. She sighed as she realised that she also missed Varel's composed and unruffled presence. _As cool and tranquil as Lake Calenhad on the first morn of spring, _she had called him. He and Nathaniel were the ones who truly ran Vigil's Keep; she knew that, and she would be utterly lost without them.

She sighed harshly and started the letter she had been dreading to write. She had to word it very carefully, as she could not be certain that Eamon would not open it first.

_Dear Alistair,_

_I write to wish you and Elissa a wonderful wedding day. Sadly, I will not be able to attend, as, I am sure you can understand, the demands on my time are formidable._

_I think this would be an appropriate juncture to end our arrangement, whereby I stay as a guest at the Palace while we discuss Grey Warden matters. I am sure you will be very busy with your new bride, and I do not wish to interfere. _

_We may continue our correspondence by letter, if you wish._

_Once again, my best wishes to you and your bride._

_Gabrielle Surana_

She couldn't be bothered to write 'Warden-Commander.' Sealing the envelope, she looked out of the window. It had started to rain heavily. _Wonderful_, she thought, feeling maudlin. _I do have an excuse to linger outside Cullen's office now, though, _she realised.

~O~

She arrived at the main foyer of the Tower, letters in hand. The rain was pelting against the heavy metal door, making a highly irritating rattling sound.

"Letters, Miss?" one of the Templars guarding the door said to her. "I'd wait until this rain holds off before you go outside."

"Yes, that's a good idea," she replied. _Thank you for the patronising suggestion, _she thought to herself. "Is the Knight-Commander in his office?" she asked.

"He's always in his office," he stated wearily.

"So I'll bet the two of you always have to be on your best behaviour, then?" she smirked.

She heard a muffled snort from behind one of the helms as she walked over to Cullen's office door. She knocked lightly, not really sure of what she was going to say to him. As usual, she hadn't thought ahead, but by now it was too late. She'd already knocked the door.

"Come in," she heard Cullen call.

"Blast and damnation!" she heard from behind her. Nathaniel and Sers Ballard, Willoughby and Richardson appeared in the foyer, sopping wet. Water pooled around their feet on the stone floor as the Templars wrung out their skirts. Nathaniel had only washed and braided his hair that morning, and looked at her thunderously as he tried to rescue the tangled mess atop his head.

"Come in!" Cullen called again, more urgently this time.

Gabby laughed at the sight of the normally elegant and dignified Nathaniel looking so bedraggled. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Waiting for the rain to let up," she replied half-truthfully, holding her letters up.

Cullen's door flew open. "What in-!" he exclaimed, then took a step back and inhaled sharply. Nathaniel cast a curious look at Gabby before deciding to depart. Whatever Gabby wanted him for, he didn't want Cullen angered by his presence.

"I'm sorry to disturb you," she said hesitantly. "I wondered if I could speak to you for a moment?"

Cullen sighed loudly and stepped away from the door, allowing Gabby to enter. She closed the door. "May I sit down?" she asked when he did not invite her to do so. He sighed again and nodded, taking his own seat and clasping his hands together. He seemed preoccupied with his gauntlets, and braced himself for another shouting match.

They sat in silence for a moment. "Was there something specific you wanted to discuss?" Cullen asked, his voice quiet and soft. Gabby's stomach knotted tightly as she was reminded once again of the Cullen of old.

"I just thought…" Gabby began, cursing herself for not coming up with a valid reason for seeing him. "I, erm…well, with Ser Smyth away from the Tower for a few days, you and I are probably going to come into contact at some point," she said as she looked closely at him. Her heart ached as she realised he had aged considerably since the last time she had been to the Tower. His skin looked dull and dry, fine lines had appeared around his eyes and mouth, and deeper lines were etched on his brow. "I just thought it would be nice if we could be civil to one another," she said with a shrug of her shoulders.

Cullen looked up at her briefly, the lines in his brow deepening. Gabby felt as though something had slammed into her. _He can look me in the eye, _she realised, as his gaze quickly returned to his gauntlets. He sighed and nodded. "Yes," he said falteringly. "Now, if you don't mind…"

"Yes, I'm sure you must be very busy," she said quickly as she rose to her feet. "Good evening, Cullen."

"Good evening," he replied quietly as she opened the door and closed it behind her.

Gabby left her letters with one of the Templars at the door, who promised to pass them to Kester as soon as the rain stopped. She made her way up to her quarters, knocking on Nathaniel's door before she retired.

He opened the door and invited her in. He was wearing a fresh shirt and leggings, and his hair was unbraided, hanging in damp strings along his shoulders.

"I just thought I'd see how you and the hair were getting along?" she asked brightly.

"I gave up in the end," he muttered. "I've washed it again. Do you want a drink?" he offered.

"No thanks," she replied. "I just came to say goodnight."

Nathaniel nodded. "So, are you going to tell me what you were doing in Cullen's office," he asked with a raised eyebrow, "or do I have to beat it out of you?"

Gabby laughed. "Just you try it, Howe," she threatened. "I was working on him, actually," she informed him, a sly smile upon her face. "I have a plan."


	9. Gabby's plan goes awry

**Thank you so much to everyone who has taken the time to leave a review!**

**And a big thank you, once again, to Jen, for rescuing some of my sentences and ramblings! :-***

**~O~**

"Gabby Surana has a plan?" Nathaniel asked amusedly, folding his arms and grinning. "Now this, I _have _to hear."

Gabby placed a hand on her hip and pursed her lips. "Actually," she said indignantly, "this plan is already well underway, and at stage three."

"And I wasn't informed of this?" Nathaniel asked with mock outrage. "You agreed to run your hare-brained schemes past Varel or I before proceeding with them, remember? After the Andraste debacle?"

Gabby had indeed assented to consult Varel or Nathaniel whenever she had a 'good idea,' after one night of heavy drinking with Anders, when the two mages had thought it a wonderful and charitable idea to dress up the statue of Andraste in the Vigil's Keep courtyard, as she 'looked cold.'

The statue was adorned with an old robe of Gabby's, that they slit up the back for ease of dressing; a scarf belonging to Anders, a hat and several items of jewellery. There was a small hitch in their plan, however: Gabby had completely forgotten that the Revered Mother from the Amaranthine Chantry was visiting the following morning, and she and Anders had to lie low, whilst poor Varel was forced to come up with an excuse, blaming it on 'local louts'. Just _how _local those louts were, he refrained from divulging. The Revered Mother was particularly nonplussed at the sight of Andraste's bottom peeking out from beneath the split in the robe.

"This isn't a hare-brained scheme," she protested. "In fact, it's going quite well."

Nathaniel sat down on a chair and folded his arms again. "Do tell," he smirked.

Gabby sat down on his bed. "Well, the plan is that I 'accidentally' bump into him, as often as I can," she related.

"Good plan," Nathaniel said dryly. "Your best yet."

Gabby glared at him coldly for a moment. "Stage one is complete," she continued, ignoring his cynicism. "That was to get him to actually speak to me. Stage two was to get him to look me in the eye, which he did several times today."

"Whilst yelling at you," Nathaniel reminded her.

"Actually, he looked at me while I was in his office," she replied tartly, "and he wasn't yelling then."

Nathaniel cocked an eyebrow, and Gabby knew he was intrigued. "And what's stage three?" he asked.

"To make him smile," she declared optimistically.

"And how do you propose to do that?" he scoffed. "Tell him a joke?"

"Yes," she said animatedly. "I thought I'd tell him the one about the sarcastic Grey Warden whose balls were burned to a crisp by an angry mage," she threatened, her hands crackling with static as she held them out toward Nathaniel, making a 'grabbing' gesture with them.

"I don't think he'd like that one," Nathaniel said with a slightly nervous laugh, smoothing down his hair, which had started to stand on end.

A knock sounded at the door. Nathaniel opened it. A nervous-looking Templar stood outside. "Is…everything alright in there?" he asked warily.

"Oh, it was only me," Gabby admitted as she went to the door. "I have to keep my lackeys in line, you understand?"

"Oh," the Templar mumbled. "Yes, of course, Warden-Commander…but I must respectfully ask you not to use unsanctioned magic outside of regulation hours…"

"Yes, I know," she interrupted. "It won't happen again."

"Thank you, Warden-Commander," the Templar replied, bowing and making a hasty retreat.

"So I'm a lackey, now, am I?" Nathaniel said as he closed the door. "Well, that's a step up. Last week I was a toady, and the week before that, a lickspittle."

"Yes, well, I'm feeling charitable today," she replied. "Anyway, back to the plan. I'm just going to be as blithely cheerful as I can each time I see him," she declared.

"You're good at that," Nathaniel snorted, before breaking into a laugh. "Well, you make _me_ smile, my dear," he said fondly. "I wish you luck. Although, Cullen doesn't seem like the smiling type to me."

"Oh, he used to be," Gabby recalled. "And he has the most wonderful laugh, almost like a cackle. And," she reminded him, "as I recall, Nathaniel, you were a very bitter and angry man when we first met. When you came back to the Keep after I released you, I could see there was a decent man beneath. I had a similar plan for you, too."

That gave Nathaniel pause. "I had not thought of that," he confessed, thinking for a moment. "I didn't make it easy for you, did I?" he admitted, "but you didn't give up. You just kept chipping away, in that irrepressible way that you do."

"Well, I've humbled the all-knowing, answer-for-everything Nathaniel Howe," she murmured thoughtfully, clasping her chin. "The ultimate achievement. The question is, where do I go from here?"

Nathaniel beamed at her. "I think it sounds like a fine plan," he conceded. "Come here," he said to Gabby, pulling her into a hug and kissing the top of her head. "We'd best get some sleep," he advised, releasing her. "You have scheming to do tomorrow."

"Goodnight, lackey," she said cheekily as he opened the door for her.

"Goodnight," he bid her with a chuckle, closed the door, and began to prepare for bed.

~O~

Cullen was up early the next day, as usual, and took his morning constitutional around the Tower's gardens. He made it a point to be outside just as the sun came up, chasing away the terrors that came to him each night in his dreams. Furthermore, the gardens were deserted at this time, and afforded him solitude. He found it so draining to be around other people for too long.

He found it very jarring, therefore, to find he had company this morning. Up ahead, picking flowers and humming to herself, was the _Warden-Commander. _He groaned to himself and turned to head back the way he had come.

"Cullen?" she called. He stopped and closed his eyes as he heard the soft padding of feet heading toward him. "Fancy seeing you here!" she said cheerily, stepping in front of him. "Come to admire the flowers, have you?" she asked, taking a deep sniff of the small posy she had made.

"Flowers?" he said cuttingly, "certainly not."

"No, that wouldn't be very manly, would it?" she said with a warm smile.

"Yes, well, I must be going," he said brusquely. "I have work to do," and continued on his way.

"Erm, Cullen?" she asked, "wouldn't it be quicker to walk round the other way toward the entrance?"

Cullen's body visibly stiffened. "Yes," he answered curtly, and turned to head in the opposite direction.

"I'm going that way," she informed him. "I'll keep you company, if you like."

Cullen halted. "What are you doing?" he asked suspiciously.

"Going back inside," she replied warily, her smile fading.

He shook his head. "Why are you even talking to me?" he asked incredulously.

"We used to be friends, Cullen, remember?" she reminded him softly.

There it was again. The sudden urge to grab her.

_And do what? Embrace her? Strike her? _

He swallowed hard. "Things change," he said with bitterness in his voice. "People change. I am not the person you once knew," he warned. "You would be better off staying out of my way." With that, he turned on his heel and resumed his original direction.

"Cullen…" Gabby began.

He spun round. "What?" he snapped.

"It doesn't matter," she said quietly. She watched, clutching her posy, as he walked away. Before he rounded the bend, he very briefly turned his head in her direction, before looking away and disappearing from sight.

Cullen turned the corner and stopped, leaning against the wall. He listened intently for a few moments for footsteps. He wasn't entirely sure how he felt when he heard none. He removed his gauntlets and tucked them underneath his arm, holding his hands out in front of him. They had developed a fine tremor over the last few days, probably to do with the fact that he had not been drinking alcohol. He had also not dreamed of Uldred for the past two nights, which worried him. The occasional night had passed by without such a dream, which was almost invariably followed by a very bad episode the following night.

He was so preoccupied with his thoughts that he did not hear Gabby rounding the corner, and dropped his gauntlets in fright as she collided with him, walking straight into one of his metal pauldrons.

"Ow!" she yelled, clutching at her forehead. Cullen stood there powerlessly for a moment, not knowing what to do. As she moved her hand away, he was alarmed to see an angry, purple dent above her right eyebrow.

"I thought you'd gone!" she said angrily, wincing as she touched her forehead. "That could have been my eye!"

"You-you'd better sit down," he advised nervously, gesturing to a small bench not far away from them.

They walked over to the bench, Cullen a few paces behind her. Gabby suddenly stopped and held her hands out in front of her, as though she had walked into an invisible wall. Cullen stopped beside her. "Feel…dizzy…" she said breathlessly with her eyes closed, blindly reaching out for Cullen's arm. Upon touching it, he instinctively recoiled and drew it back. She staggered to the bench, looking at him briefly before slumping onto it. The dismay and hurt in her eyes took his breath away. "What is wrong with you?" she whimpered, and started to weep as she put her head in her hands.

"Ser?" a Templar called from an upper floor window. "Is everything alright? I heard a shout."

"Send for a healer immediately," Cullen shouted up. "The Warden-Commander has been injured."

"Yes, Ser!" the Templar exclaimed, disappearing from the window.

Cullen stood, watching over Gabby, feeling completely at a loss. The urge to touch her, to connect with her, was stronger than ever now, but it was matched by an equally strong revulsion at the very thought of that touch.

"Just go, Cullen," she said defeatedly. "You obviously can't stand to be anywhere near me."

Cullen stood his ground; the gentleman in him forbade him to leave her alone. Gabby, feeling sick and humiliated, said no more. As soon as Cullen spotted a brightly-coloured shape approaching them, he departed, passing the healer without acknowledging him.

"Knight-Commander…" the healer began. "What happened…?" The healer looked on confoundedly as Cullen disappeared around the corner. He groaned and sat down next to Gabby, gently prising her hands away from her head. "Let's take a look at this," he said soothingly.

~O~

Ser Smyth and Ser Bailey arrived at the farm settlement mid-morning the day after they'd set out. Investigating a potential Magi child was one of the Templars' highest priorities; second only to apprehending an apostate, and the two men had ridden hard, stopping only for a brief rest during the night. Neither of them had slept.

They had conversed easily along the way, and had enjoyed a pleasant ride; that conversation now consisted of murmurs and one-word answers as the huge and forbidding fortress of West Hill loomed into view, far up in the hills. Its presence dominated the entire Arling, and the people of Ferelden spoke of it in hushed and awed tones.

"It's rumoured to be haunted, you know," Bailey commented as they stopped on the outskirts of the farm. "This place gives me the creeps."

"More talk of ghosts, Martin?" Smyth scoffed, "I'm surprised at you," he said wryly, although even he could not deny the feeling of unease that had crept up on him the closer they had come to West Hill. "Besides," he ventured, "neither of us have had any sleep. The mind plays tricks."

"You don't fool me, Tristan," Bailey replied. "I saw it in your eyes just then. For the last hour or so I've felt as though we were being watched, or followed."

Although Smyth was a practical man, he, too, had fancied that he felt the presence of someone – or some_thing_ else – during the latter part of their journey. He glanced momentarily at Bailey, then nodded his head toward the farmhold, and dug his heels into his horse's flanks.

As they approached, a peasant man and woman emerged from the main house and ran up to the Templars. Both of them looked tired and strained.

"Is this the Pelham residence?" Ser Bailey asked politely, as he and Smyth dismounted. Ser Smyth led their horses to a nearby water trough.

"That it be, Ser Knight! Thank the Maker you're 'ere!" the woman cried, falling to her knees, sobbing, grasping Bailey's arm. The man, who they presumed to be her husband, stood silently with his hands clasped over the top of his head.

"Please, calm yourself, good woman," Bailey said, helping the distraught woman to her feet. "You are the child's mother?" he asked.

She nodded her head and wiped her eyes with her sleeves. Bailey took out a clean handkerchief and offered it to her. "Yes, she be my daughter, Ser, Maker 'elp me," she sniffed. "She be inside," she said with wide eyes, gesturing toward the house.

"It's living 'ere what done it," the peasant man opined. "She be cursed!"

Smyth and Bailey exchanged a quick glance. "May we see the child?" Smyth asked.

The child's father pointed toward the house. "She be in there, Ser," he said with obvious fear in his voice. "Please, just take 'er away!" he begged. "We done sent our other two away to a neighbour, for fear o' what she'd do to 'em!"

"What is your daughter's name?" asked Ser Smyth.

"Lorenna, Ser," the child's mother replied. "But we calls her 'Wren,' we does."

The Templars nodded, walked up to the front door, removed their helms, and entered.

The house appeared to be nothing but a large hovel, consisting of three rooms, and was in such a dilapidated condition, it appeared it could collapse at any moment. The Templars trod the bare floorboards very carefully for fear that one of their feet would go through. A stale and fusty odour hung in the air, and the timbers and window frames showed signs of advanced decay. The two Knights gave silent thanks to the Maker for their fortunate position in life.

"Hello?" called Ser Smyth. "Wren? Are you here? We should like to speak with you."

A shuffling sound, then a thud, came from an adjoining room. They entered cautiously and peered around. The room was sparsely furnished, containing only a rickety wooden table, two small chairs and a large wooden trunk. A bowl of cold skilly sat atop the table. Ser Bailey walked over toward the trunk and rapped lightly on the lid. "Wren?" he asked softly. "May we speak with you for a moment?"

"I's not 'ere," a muffled voice spoke from within. The two Knights grinned at one another.

"Well, someone must be in there," Ser Smyth said amiably, "as we are standing right next to the trunk, and can hear them quite clearly."

A red circle of light suddenly appeared on the floor beneath Ser Bailey; magical glyphs and symbols waxed within it. With a flick of his wrist, Ser Bailey dispelled the curse. A shrill gasp came from within the trunk.

"I am afraid that will not work on us, dear child," Ser Bailey said kindly.

The lid of the trunk opened a crack. The glint of a pair of dark, wide eyes became visible. Ser Smyth crouched down and smiled. "Hello," he said. "My name is Tristan, and this is my friend, Martin." Ser Bailey also crouched down and waved at the trunk.

"You's look funny," the muffled voice said with a slight giggle.

"Yes, I expect we do," Ser Smyth agreed. "I bet you've never seen men wearing skirts before, have you?"

The giggle became a snicker. "No, I 'asn't," Wren replied.

"Well, it was nice talking to you, young lady," Ser Smyth said as he stood up, "but I'm afraid we can't stop to chat. We're looking for someone called Wren, but she doesn't appear to be here."

The trunk lid flew open. A tiny, dirt-encrusted girl emerged. Her dark hair was tangled and matted, and her clothes were nothing more than filthy rags. "Watcha want 'er for?" she asked suspiciously.

"Well," Ser Smyth answered, "we wanted to talk to her about her magic. We were told that she can cast spells," he said with a waggle of his eyebrows.

"And where we live," Ser Bailey added, "there are many others who can do magic, just like her. We thought she might like to meet them."

Wren stared at them both for several moments, seemingly weighing up their proposal. She sat back down in the trunk and wrapped her hands around her knees, resting her chin on them. "They's scared o' me," she said quietly.

"Well, I'm not scared of you," Ser Bailey boasted, puffing his chest out for effect.

Wren giggled and looked at Ser Smyth. "Nor I," he claimed. The child stared at the floor between the two of them for a moment. A huge, white glyph appeared, encircling both men. "Ah, bringing out your best, eh?" Smyth said with a grin. With a dramatic wave of his arms, the glyph disappeared.

Wren gasped. "You's bein' like me?" she asked in wonderment.

"Not exactly," Smyth responded, "although we live with several people who _are_ like you. In fact, there is a very nice lady named Gabby who is very excited at the thought of meeting you."

"Wha' for?" Wren asked, puzzled.

"Because you're special, that's why," Bailey replied.

"They's says I's cursed," she said darkly, pointing toward the far wall, in her parents' direction.

"They do not understand," Bailey said gently. "They are grown-ups, after all."

A dazzling smile lit up Wren's face. "Where you's be livin'?" she asked curiously.

"Not far from here," Bailey explained. "We live on the middle of a Lake." Wren gasped in astonishment. "There are others like you there," he continued, "who would all love to meet you. You could learn much from them."

"Would you like to see?" Smyth offered.

"Then I comes back 'ere?" she asked.

"How would you like to meet our horses?" offered Bailey, changing the subject.

"'Orses!" she yelled excitedly. "Where?"

"Just outside…" Bailey began. Wren was out of the door before he could finish his sentence.

"Now you mustn't run up to them, my dear," Smyth remonstrated gently as the two men followed her outside. Wren stopped in her tracks. "They're sensitive and frighten easily. Come, walk alongside me."

Wren grasped Smyth's fingers as they walked toward the horses. "Your 'ands are shiny," she said with wonder.

Ser Smyth laughed. "These are called gauntlets, Wren," he informed her, removing one. "See?" I have hands beneath them." Wren took his gauntlet and tried it on for size; it swallowed her entire arm. "It's a little too large for you at the moment," he chuckled.

Wren and the two Templars walked up to the horses. "This is my horse, Keiran," Smyth said, gesturing toward his black gelding.

"And this is my steed, Cronan," said Ser Bailey, taking out a few apples from the pack atop his brown stallion. "Would you like to feed them?" he asked.

Wren nodded her head and took an apple. Smyth led her over to Keiran. She hesitatingly proffered the apple, and laughed when the gelding whinnied and flashed his teeth as he cautiously took it from her. She then fed Cronan, and bravely stroked his nose as he took the apple. Cronan gently nudged Wren with his nose after eating it.

"I think he likes you," Ser Bailey laughed. "Would you like to go for a ride?" he offered. The two Templars tensed involuntarily; this was the part they disliked the most, as it involved a degree of deception on their part.

"Oh, I'd love ter!" she chirped. As Ser Bailey helped Wren onto Cronan, Ser Smyth walked over to the girl's parents and produced a small purse of monies.

"Please accept these alms from the Chantry, to assist your family during the coming winter," he said quietly to Wren's father, who took the purse and nodded quickly, obviously touched at the gesture.

"Good day to you, Ser, Madam," he said with a bow, before turning away and mounting Keiran.

Thankfully, Wren did not see her parents weeping as they clung to each other, watching the two Knights ride away with their daughter, never to return.

~O~

Gabby sat staring gloomily out of a window in her quarters, her head resting on her hand. It was raining again, and she felt as morose and lacklustre as the day itself. The posy she had made earlier lay on the windowsill, picked to pieces.

A knock sounded on her door. _Go away_, she thought miserably, and decided to ignore it. She picked up what was left of her posy and started to pluck flowers from it, letting them fall to the floor.

The door knocked again. "Gabby?" It was Nathaniel. "Are you in there?"

She sighed heavily, knowing she would have to speak to him eventually. "Come in," she said wearily.

He entered and closed the door. Gabby did not look away from the window, and he approached her cautiously, sitting next to her on a small chair. "How's the plan coming along?" he asked softly.

"It was a stupid plan," she answered sullenly. "He wants nothing to do with me. He's made that very clear."

"What did he say to you?" Nathaniel asked, trying to keep the tone of his voice even.

"He told me to keep out of his way, then nearly took my eye out," she whined.

"He _what_?" Nathaniel exclaimed. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, it was my own stupid fault," she admitted. "I wasn't looking where I was going. I walked straight into one of his pauldrons, look," she said, showing him the black bruise above her eye.

Nathaniel hissed through his teeth. "A Templar's pauldron?" he said with a grimace, closely examining the bruise. "I bet that bloody hurt."

"He sent for a healer, then just…just walked off," she mumbled. "Didn't even stay to find out how I was," she said sadly. "He obviously doesn't care about me anymore. I feel like such a fool."

"But, he did send for a healer…" Nathaniel ventured.

"Only because another Templar asked what was wrong," she replied, turning to look out of the window again. "If he hadn't done that, Cullen probably would have put me out of my misery," she said petulantly.

Nathaniel tutted and rested his hand on her arm. He was hurt to see his normally ebullient friend so discouraged. A knock sounded at the door.

"Is that all anyone ever does around here?" Gabby cried exasperatedly, "knock on sodding doors?"

"I'll get it," Nathaniel offered, giving her shoulder a squeeze as he went to the door. He stood there for a moment, talking to someone in the hallway. "It's Luke," Nathaniel said, poking his head around the door. "Wants to know how you are."

"Oh, he can come in," she replied.

One of their recruits, Ser Richardson, entered and bowed politely to Gabby. "I heard you had an accident, Warden-Commander," he said with a concerned look. "How are you feeling?"

"Oh, fine, thank you, Luke," she lied. "It was just a bump on the head. Maybe it's knocked some sense into me, who knows!" she chirped, acting as cheerily as she could. She could almost hear Nathaniel saying, 'I doubt it.'

Ser Richardson grinned. "That is good to hear, Warden-Commander," he replied. Nathaniel nudged him. "Oh, erm…Gabby," he said sheepishly.

Gabby managed a smile. "Thank you so much for calling by, Luke," she said genuinely. "I was just wondering, though…how did you hear about this?"

"Oh, erm…someone mentioned it," he mumbled, clasping the back of his neck. Gabby had been around Templars for long enough to know when they were trying their best not to lie.

"Who?" she asked, narrowing her eyes.

Ser Richardson sighed and glanced around the room. "Why am I glancing around?" he asked himself with a chuckle. "Alright, this is between us, yes?"

Gabby and Nathaniel frowned and exchanged confused glances. Gabby nodded.

"Well," Richardson said quietly. "The Knight-Commander sent me to check on your condition, but you're not supposed to know that, for some reason."

"Oh," she said softly. Nathaniel smiled warmly.

"I will tell him that you are feeling better," Richardson said. "But you don't know that, either," he whispered conspiratorially.

"Actually," Nathaniel said slyly, "tell him she feels terrible and has an awful headache. And keeps being sick."

"You know I can't do that, Nathaniel," Richardson chided.

"You're not a Templar anymore, you know," Nathaniel replied. "You're a Grey Warden, now. We _are _allowed to lie."

"Nice try," Richardson laughed. "I'm not a Grey Warden yet." Nathaniel shrugged and opened the door for him. "Good afternoon to you both," he bid them politely.

Nathaniel bowed as Ser Richardson exited. "Good afternoon!" Gabby called. "And thank you!"

Nathaniel closed the door and laughed to see the light return to Gabby's face. She stretched her arms, skipped over to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. Nathaniel pulled her into a hug. "I take it that stage three is back on, then?" he asked.

"Yes," she said happily. "With bells on!"


	10. Cullen's epiphany

**Thank you so much to everyone for their reviews, story-alerts and favourites. They always bring a huge smile to my face :)**

_**In Uthenera **_**and **_**The Noladar Anthology of Dwarven Poetry **_**belong to Bioware.**

With Gabby's enthusiasm and optimism restored, she resumed a little sewing project she had been working on. Nathaniel, finding himself at a loose end, sought out Sers Willoughby and Ballard for some archery instruction. Ser Richardson was currently on duty, but said he would endeavour to join them later. Nathaniel had obtained permission from the Tower's cook to clear some space in the dining hall for their session, promising to return it to order well before supper, as the rain prevented them from using the training yard. He and Ser Willoughby had hurriedly brought in a training dummy from outside.

"Have either of you ever held a bow before?" Nathaniel asked the Templars, both of whom shook their heads.

"Templars are never trained in archery," Ser Willoughby shrugged. "There's no need for it."

Nathaniel shook his head in consternation. "There is always a need to be skilled with a long-range weapon," he said with a frown. "What if you were attacked from a distance, when away from the Tower?"

"We tend not to get attacked," Willoughby replied. "Bandits are not foolish enough to engage us, and if we encounter any errant mages, we can dispel them from a distance. Most people look upon the Templars as mighty warriors without equal," he said wryly, "and therefore find us intimidating. Who are we to quell that notion?"

"Just don't tell them we can't use bows," Ser Ballard whispered with a grin on his face, "or that notion would be well and truly stuffed!"

Nathaniel laughed. "Well, I intend to remedy that," he declared. "You really will be warriors without equal if you become proficient with a long-range weapon, as well as your sword." He instructed the two Knights to remove their breastplates, pauldrons and gauntlets, then gestured for them to stand at either side of him.

"Relax your legs, and stand with your knees slightly bent," he instructed them. "If your legs are too stiff, it will hinder the flexibility of your waist, and may cause you to jar your back if you turn suddenly." The Templars copied his stance as advised.

"Now," he continued, holding out his bow, "hold the bow out in front of you, with your elbow slightly bent." The Templars could only watch at this stage, as they only had Nathaniel's bow between the three of them. "If your arm is too rigid, it may start to tremble slightly, thus hampering your aim." He then instructed them on the correct way to grip the bow. "Do not wrap your hand around it, but rather rest it against your thumb," he demonstrated. "Gripping it tightly with the entire hand will tense your arm, which, may in turn, cause it tremble."

Nathaniel nocked an arrow and drew the string back, instructing his students to observe the positioning of his fingers. "Conn, tell me where to aim for," he said.

"Erm, left eye," Conn replied. "_His_ left."

Nathaniel took aim at the dummy at the far end of the room. He released the arrow, which flew straight and true directly at the dummy's left eye, bouncing off the hard wood and clattering to the floor. Ballard and Willoughby applauded.

"Well done, Ser," said Willoughby, slapping Nathaniel on the back. "How long have you been doing this for?"

"Since I was a young lad," Nathaniel replied, "and I'm 30 now. Close to…25 years, I suppose."

"We could never be that good, then," Conn remarked, feeling a little discouraged.

Nathaniel shook his head. "I wouldn't say that," he replied. "And you don't always need to be as accurate as that in combat. If you were firing at a real person, a bandit for example, your aim could be a few inches out, and you may still hit him."

"Really?" Conn said with a grin. "Could…I have a go?"

"Of course!" Nathaniel replied, pleased at the lad's enthusiasm. He handed the bow to Conn and reminded him of his stance and how to properly hold it. Nathaniel then stood behind him and helped him to raise the bow and nock an arrow.

"Aim just above your target," he instructed, "as the arrow will drift downward slightly during flight…yes, good," he said approvingly. "Now concentrate on your target, Conn," he said quietly. "Let nothing distract you. Nothing else exists but your target. Allow your eyes to blur everything else surrounding it. Take aim at the left eye, and release the arrow."

Conn nodded solemnly and took aim, concentrating hard. The arrow whistled through the air, hitting the training dummy's left shoulder. Ser Willoughby applauded again, and slapped Conn on the back. "Beginner's luck, eh, lad?" he said.

Nathaniel looked at Conn intently, his eyes slightly narrowed. "I don't believe in luck," he stated. "Do it again, Conn, this time without my help."

Conn grinned and nocked another arrow. Nathaniel made a couple of minor corrections to his stance and stood back. "Just aim a tad higher this time, Conn," he advised.

This time the arrow hit the training dummy's chin. "Yes!" Conn cried in triumph.

"Again," Nathaniel instructed, his calm voice belying his excitement. Conn's third shot flew just past the dummy's left ear, hitting the wall behind it. "Well, young man," Nathaniel said proudly, shaking his hand. "It would appear you're a natural."

Conn's face flushed red and he beamed from ear to ear. "Meredith, let's see how you fare," said Nathaniel, taking the bow and handing it to Willoughby.

~O~

Cullen received the day's post from Kester and rifled through it as he sat at his desk. Most of it was addressed to either him or Smyth. One envelope was written in beautiful and flowing script, but the handwriting was almost indecipherable. He read it several times, then the words suddenly leapt out at him:

_Gabby Surana, Commander of the Grey and all of her lowly vassals of Amaranthine, c/o the Circle Tower of Magi, Lake Calenhad, N.W. Ferelden._

_Does she really call herself that?_ he wondered with a snort. _Perhaps as a joke? _He set the letter aside and began opening his, deciding that he could pass her letter onto another Templar to take up to her room. As he went through his correspondence, his eyes kept wandering to her letter. _It might be urgent, _he thought. He shook his head and turned away from it as he read his own letters. After a while, however, he found he could not concentrate on them; her letter kept coming back into his thoughts. He could almost feel its presence behind him, urging for him to take it up to her room.

He rose to his feet with a sigh and grabbed the letter. _It might be urgent_, he justified to himself, and exited his office.

On the way, he passed several Templars he could have passed the letter to. _They might get the wrong room, _he justified to himself. _I'll take it. I don't expect I'll see her anywhere on the way up, _he thought, trying to convince himself that he did _not_ want to see her on the way up, and was not the _slightest_ bit interested in seeing how her eye was. He passed the dining hall, and stopped and frowned at the sight of Meredith Willoughby shooting arrows uselessly at the far wall.

He walked through the library, where the mages_' _lessons were taking place, and shuddered at the throbbing sensation of magic against his skin. He very rarely walked through the library at this time of day unless it was unavoidable. _I need a walk, _he justified to himself. _My morning walk was disrupted._

He reached the third floor and breathed a sigh of relief. The Senior Enchanters' quarters were usually deserted at this time of day, and he could sense no magic up there. He hoped that nobody else was around; he had no real reason for being on that floor, and didn't want any of…_the mages _talking to him. _I'm the Knight-Commander of this Tower, _he justified to himself. _I don't need a reason to be up here._

His pace slowed as he drew nearer to her room, then he stopped altogether and listened intently. He could hear singing_. _He recognised the voice, but not the song. It sounded elvish to him.

_Vir sulahn 'nehn_

_Vir dirthera_

_Vir samahl la numin_

_Vir lath sa 'vunin_

It was indeed an elvish song, one that Leliana had sung one night whilst at camp during the Blight. Gabby had loved it so much, she had asked the bard to teach it to her, and sang it every now and again when she felt nostalgic.

Cullen leaned back against a wall and closed his eyes, and, for a moment, he was no longer the Knight-Commander of the Tower; but was merely Cullen, waiting in the corridor, as he did each morning, listening for the sound of her enchanting voice.

He sighed and shook his head, snapping himself back to reality, and looked at the letter for a moment. _Gabby Surana. __**Gabby**__. _The name seemed to leap out at him. He suddenly realised he was sweating and breathing rapidly.

His stomach tightened as her siren song continued to drift down the corridor, luring him to his doom. Fatally captivated by her voice, his legs carried him to her door. The singing had stopped. He closed his eyes and clenched his fist, poised to knock on her door. She then started to sing again, a rather jauntier tune this time, taught to her by Sigrun:

_Do you like fried mush and nug?_

_I do not like them Mister Klug  
I do not like fried mush and nug_

_Would you eat them on a rug?  
If you eat, you'll get a hug!_

Cullen took a step back from the door, staring at it as though it had just told him it was the Second Coming of Andraste. Gabby continued with her song:

_I would not eat them on a rug  
From you I would not want a hug_

_Then would you drink them from a jug?  
Come on, come on, give them a chug!_

_I would not drink them from a jug  
I'd rather eat a slimy slug…_

The spell broken, he shoved the letter under her door and beat a hasty retreat. Without her realising it, stage three of Gabby's plan was now complete.

~O~

Gabby looked up from her sewing as a letter was pushed under her door. She frowned, walked over to the door and opened it, looking up and down the corridor. No one was around. "Hello?" she called. No answer. She picked the letter up and grinned as she recognised the writing. "Well, thank you!" she said to the empty corridor, and closed the door.

"Commander of the Grey and all of her lowly vassals of Amaranthine," she read to herself with a chuckle. "Anders, you prat!" she laughed, shaking her head, as she opened the letter.

_Ho there, Gabs,_

_What are you up to at the Tower, then? Oh, hang on. You won't be there, yet, will you? _

Gabby looked at the date at the top of the letter. He'd sent it the day after she and Nathaniel had set out. "You daft sod!" she said out loud.

_It's so boring here without you. I thought there would be a bit of a diversion when the dwarf challenged me to a drinking game, but I found him passed out before it was due to start! So I decided I'd won that one. Remember that time when you __raided__ the vault containing the darkspawn blood, and we took our Joining again? Now __**that **__was a drinking game! _

_There's nobody here to have fun with. You even took Nate with you! At least I can get a rise out of him. I hope you're calling him 'Nate,' all the time like we agreed. You know how much that pisses him off!_

_Well, at least we can get dressed up for the wedding, eh? I know you don't want to go, really, so how about we get hammered before we __set out__? That way, we won't remember any of it, and we might even do something embarrassing to humiliate King shithead! What's not to like about that? And I wasn't really going to wear that robe, you know. I actually have a very tasteful black and yellow spotted number for occasions of state. Joke. Sorry, crap, I know._

_Anyway, hurry up and come home. I miss you already. (But give that bastard Greagoir a bit of stick before you do!)_

_Anders. xx_

Gabby read the letter a few more times, placed it back into the envelope and kissed it before tucking it into her robe pocket. "I miss you, too," she said to herself with a fond smile.

~O~

Nathaniel returned a little later and stopped by Gabby's quarters. As she made some tea, he sat at her table, which was covered in pieces of fabric, some of it quite exotic looking. "What's all this?" he asked, sifting through the material. "Are these mages' robes? Where did you get them? They don't look like any of yours."

"From the stockroom," she replied. "Owain had tons of them." She suspected that some of them had belonged to the mages who were lost during the revolt at the Tower, but had decided not to ask.

"What are you doing with them?" he enquired.

"This," she said proudly, holding up a tiny silver and white robe, with a pink belt and fabric corsage to the left shoulder. "It's for the little girl," she explained. "I didn't want her to feel left out when she gets here."

"You _made _that?" Nathaniel asked, clearly impressed.

Gabby nodded. "I'm working on a second one. Hopefully it will be finished by the time she arrives," she said, rubbing her eyes.

"I didn't even know you could sew!" he exclaimed. "Do you mean to tell me, I've been darning my own socks – _a woman's job, I might add_ - all this time, when I could have given them to you?"

"Just try asking me the next time," she challenged. "See what answer you get."

"I can imagine," he muttered. "Two words: Last one, 'off.'"

"Precisely," she answered, passing him his tea. "How did the archery go?" she asked.

"Well," Nathaniel replied with uncharacteristic excitement, "I was wrong about Meredith. He couldn't take to it. I think he'd be more comfortable with a crossbow. "But," he said, leaning forward, "Conn was born to use a longbow. I really think we should concentrate on that more than his sword work."

"Really?" Gabby asked with a smile. She leaned on the table and drummed her fingers against it, her smile fading suddenly.

"What's the matter?" Nathaniel asked.

"I was just thinking of how fond I've become of Conn," she replied quietly. "And that's the last thing I should allow myself to do. When we go home, he'll have to take the Joining. They all will."

Nathaniel looked down at the floor, realising that he, too, had formed friendships with the Templars, particularly Ballard and Richardson. "I know," he said quietly. "Do you think we should talk to them?" he asked. "I don't mean _tell _them," he added quickly, "but merely drop a few hints, like you did with Anders and I."

"What would you have done, Nathaniel, if I'd told you everything before your Joining?" Gabby enquired.

"Why?" he asked. "You're not thinking of revealing all to the Templars, are you?"

"No," she replied quickly, "although I did with Anders before he took _his_ Joining."

"Did you?" he asked in surprise.

Gabby nodded her head. "I conscripted him – I left him with no choice," she responded. "I felt it was only fair."

"But you did it to save his life," Nathaniel reminded her.

"And that's what I thought I was doing with Conn," she mumbled, her voice growing quieter. "At least, I thought I was saving him from an horrific punishment." She turned away from Nathaniel and looked out of the window. "I was wrong, though, wasn't I?" she said with a slump of her shoulders.

"No, Gabby," Nathaniel reassured her. "I think you were right to do what you did. I would have done the same, in your position."

"Really?" she asked, turning around to face him. He nodded. "Well, that means a lot, Nathaniel…really, it does," she said quietly.

"Has this been on your mind all of this time?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied, turning to face the window again. "Just like your Joining was, and Anders', and Oghren's, and Sigrun's…and…Mhairi's. The people I got to know beforehand...became fond of."

Nathaniel stood up and walked over to the window, leaning against the wall next to Gabby. "This is the worst part of being Warden-Commander, isn't it," he said sympathetically. "Well, if you want my opinion, I think we should tell them what you told me: That the Joining is potentially dangerous, and that becoming a Warden carries many sacrifices," he suggested. "Nothing more than that."

Gabby sighed and slipped her arm through one of Nathaniel's. "You're right as always, dear friend," she said with a thin smile.

"I'm not always right," he grinned back at her. "I planned to kill you, once, remember?" he said sheepishly. "I'm glad I changed my mind about _that_."

"Not half as glad as I am, believe me!" Gabby exclaimed, and the two of them shared a hearty laugh.

~O~

Later that day, Ser Richardson sought out Nathaniel for an archery lesson. Richardson proved to have little aptitude for it, as had Willoughby, and the two men moved the dining tables and chairs back into position, as supper was due to be served shortly.

Gabby finished off the second robe for the little girl, although she wasn't entirely satisfied with it, and felt it could be improved. She hung it up and resolved to continue with it the following day, as her vision had started to blur from all of the close work. She lit a few candles in her room as the sun had begun to set, and penned a quick response to Anders' letter.

She took her letter and made her way down to the first floor. She fancied a walk, and, although Kester would not be taking any post across the Lake until the following day, he would still take the letter from her, and she would get some much-needed fresh air in the process. Furthermore, if she was lucky, she thought, she might bump into Cullen on the way.

Her luck was in. Cullen stood outside his office door, issuing orders to two Templars when she passed by. She could feel his eyes on her as she approached the main door, and the sentries stationed there began the involved process of opening it for her.

"Just a moment," Cullen said from behind her. Gabby turned around to face him, and immediately saw his gaze go to her bruised eye, before moving to the floor. "Erm…you do realise that Kester doesn't take the post until morning, don't you?" he reminded her, idly fiddling with his gauntlets.

"Yes, Cullen," she said affably. "I used to live here, remember? I fancied some fresh air, anyway."

"Of course," he replied, and turned to enter his office.

"How is your pauldron?" she asked impishly.

He turned to face her. "My…what?" he asked quietly.

She walked over to him. "This," she said, tapping his shoulder guard with her finger. "I didn't dent it or anything, did I?"

Cullen cleared his throat. "Erm, no," he replied, suddenly aware that she was standing very close to him.

"Good!" she replied, then looked at him for a moment, a joyous smile slowly forming on her face.

"What!" he said sharply, feeling discomfort at her scrutiny. "What is it?"

Gabby tapped her cheek and pointed at Cullen's face, before turning away from him and exiting through the main door, which was now open.

Cullen suddenly realised what she had meant as he felt his cheeks burning. He hurriedly entered his office and closed the door firmly, his face as red as his skirt.

~O~

Cullen found sleep hard to come by that night. Each time he closed his eyes he saw her. When his eyes were open, he heard her singing. _I mustn't think about her! _he scolded himself. _I'll dream about her if I do! _And dreaming about her usually ended with him screaming himself awake, or being left with an altogether different predicament, which he had to shamefully relieve himself of.

He folded his arms across his chest and concentrated on breathing through his nose. He pictured a single white point of light in his mind, and focused on that, and nothing else, as he gradually entered a meditative state. He felt his body grow heavy.

_He stood facing one of the Tower's many statues. He had been stripped to the waist, his hands bound together, and his arms had been raised above his head, tied to the head of the statue. His shoulder and back muscles screamed out for relief, but he could not move his arms. "Please," he begged. "Let me put my arms down."_

"_All in good time," Uldred said coldly as one of his hideous abominations led three Templars into the room, __who were__ also stripped to the waist. "Yes, their blood should suffice," he said to himself. "If we need more, we'll use his mage slut. What was her name? Gabrielle?"_

"_What?" Cullen cried, desperately trying to struggle free of his bonds. "You're lying!" he yelled. " She's not here! She died at Ostagar!"_

"_I didn't die at Ostagar," Uldred replied, "and neither did she. Your pretty Warden friend is in the Tower, right now," he said truthfully. "She and her goons are coming for me, it seems," he said with a mocking laugh._

"_I don't believe you!" Cullen spat, his voice wavering a little. _

"_Oh, but the tone of your voice tells me that you do!" Uldred cried triumphantly, dramatically throwing his arms up. "What if Uldred's telling the truth?" the blood mage mocked, __imitating Cullen's voice.__ "What if my darling girl is in danger? Oh, Maker help me!" he sneered and stepped closer to Cullen. "But she __**is **__in danger, dear fellow, be certain of that," he said menacingly._

_He stepped away from Cullen and instructed the Templars to stand closer to __their brother__. "Defend yourselves!" Cullen shouted at them, quickly silenced as he looked upon their blank faces and dead eyes. "What have you done to them, you bastard?" he cried, again vainly trying to wriggle free._

"_Such __coarse__ language from a child of the Chantry," Uldred admonished. "Your friends here are going to help me. The spell I tested on you yesterday was not strong enough for my purposes…"_

"_No, please," Cullen begged. "Not that again!"_

"…_so these fellows will provide me with the power I need," Uldred continued, ignoring him. "Allow me to demonstrate."_

_Uldred's abomination stepped behind one of the Templars and held a knife to his throat. "No, Uldred! Please!" Cullen implored._

"_Silence!" Uldred snapped and turned and nodded at his __lackey__. The creature pulled the Templar's head back and dug the knife deep into his throat. A rivulet of blood flowed freely from the hapless Knight as he slumped to the floor. Cullen began to weep._

"_Ah, yes!" Uldred said breathlessly. "I can feel it flowing through me! It is magnificent!" _

_Cullen screamed as he felt the full force of Uldred's spell slam into his back. "Please!" he sobbed wretchedly. "Just kill me and be done with it! Why are you doing this to me?"_

"_Why?" Uldred said angrily. "Why? Because you refused to join me, that's why! I am going to kill every single Templar in this Tower – and you are going to help me do it!" He walked over to Cullen and whispered in his ear. "This is your last chance, __Templar__ – either you join us, or you spend the rest of your miserable existence as my plaything!"_

"_Never!" Cullen yelled, __drawing from__ the last reserves of his fortitude. "Do what you will, __maleficar__, I will never submit to you, __or any of your kind__!"_

"_Really?" Uldred seethed. "Kill the other two together," he ordered his servant. "Let's see how much damage I can really do."_

_The abomination dispatched the two remaining Templars in quick succession. Uldred grunted almost orgasmically as the power of their blood flowed into him. He released his pent-up energy directly at his victim's bare back; Cullen's resulting screams reverberated through the entire fourth floor, and his arms were nearly pulled out of their sockets as his legs gave way, and he swung limply from the rope binding his hands together._

"_You see how the skin on his back has become malformed?" Uldred said remorselessly to his servant, then cocked his head to the side and sighed. "He's had enough for now," he said as he prodded the now semi-conscious Cullen. "He really is no sport at all when he can no longer register pain. Put him back in the cage."_

~O~

"_Cullen?" A quiet, hesitant voice spoke. "Oh, Cullen, it is you! Thank the Maker you're alive!"_

_Cullen looked up; he had been returned to the cage. A red-headed elven mage stood outside the magical field. "Gabby?" he said shakily. "Is that really you?"_

"_Yes, it is I," she confirmed, gazing at Cullen as tears spilled down her cheeks. "Have they hurt you?" _

"_No," he replied, "although they have tried." He looked at her longingly for a moment and let out a ragged sigh. "Gabby," he whispered, "you have to get out of here. Uldred will return at any moment."_

A knock on the head brought him round. He lay on the floor next to his bed, entangled in his sheets. He'd banged his head against his bedside cabinet as he thrashed in his sleep. He sat up and drew his knees to his chest, resting his elbows on them as he covered his face with his hands. Thankfully he'd woken before Gabby - before the demon - had…

Shaking that thought from his mind, he disentangled himself from his sheets and rose to his feet, rubbing the tender spot on the side of his head. He began pacing the room, before halting in front of the window and staring out over the black waters of Lake Calenhad. "This has to stop," he said to the darkness.

Pulling on a loose shirt, leggings and boots, he opened his bedroom door and ventured out into the corridor. All was quiet. He began the long walk round to the exit to the third floor, not passing a single Templar on his way.

He paused at the exit door, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. _I have to do this_, _or I will never find peace,_ he resolved. As he opened the door, the sentry at the foot of the steps turned around in surprise. "Is everything alright, Knight-Commander?" the Templar asked.

"Yes," Cullen mumbled in reply as he descended. "Just…stretching my legs."

"Very good, Ser," the Templar replied as Cullen continued on his way.

Cullen's hands began to tremble as he approached his destination. He felt a gentle hum against his skin as he approached the door. _What is that? _he wondered. _Is it magic? It's very faint, if it is._

He looked around, then rested his hands and forehead against the door, taking several deep breaths. _I have to do this, or I will never find peace, _he thought once again, though his heart beat a wild, erratic rhythm in his chest, and his hands shook violently as he balled them into fists. His mind still fogged by the vestiges of sleep, he slowly pushed the door open and peered into the room, allowing a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness.

The room was not in complete darkness, however; a tiny Spell Wisp hovered by the window, casting a weak, sickly luminescence over the centre of the room; jagged shadows rose at odd angles from the utter blackness in its corners. Only the sound of soft breathing could be heard within. He stepped inside, his own breathing painfully laboured, and fixed his gaze on the bed.

There she lay, her head lolled back and her mouth hanging open. One arm was tucked underneath the pillow, behind her head; the other rested lightly on her chest. He listened to her breathing for a moment and watched her chest rise and fall, as halting half-snores accompanied her inhalations. _I have to do this, or I will never find peace, _he repeated silently to himself.

His brow knotted and a cold wave of dread and fear shimmied down his body as he took one step forward, then another. He realised he was panting and took several slow, steadying breaths.

_Please don't wake up. I have to do this or I will never find peace._

He leaned over Gabby's bed, dashing sweat from his forehead as he extended a trembling hand, and held his breath as he moved it toward her throat.


	11. A major misunderstanding

**Thank you as always to everyone who takes the time to leave a review :)**

**To my friend and Beta-Reader, Jen – thank you so much for a wonderful editing job! You're the greatest!**

**~O~**

Cullen's trembling hand made contact with the soft, warm flesh of her throat, which yielded slightly to his touch as he moved upward to her face. He stroked the fine, downy hair on her cheek and felt her warm breath against his hand.

If anyone had seen Cullen at this moment, they would have marvelled at the sight; the hard, grim mask he usually wore had slipped to reveal a gentle, awe-struck expression seen by so few people during his life; the woman lying beneath him being one of those few.

It was only now, as she traversed the Fade, that he dared to touch her, as he had been so desperate, but afraid, to do since her return to the Tower. He _needed_ to touch her, if only to make her real in his mind; to distinguish her from the demonic representation of her that haunted his dreams. Touching her, in even the most innocuous way, while she was awake was impossible; it would mean that she may touch him in return. It would mean eye contact, longing and shame. It may even mean him losing control of himself, and…_then what?_ _Nothing good could ever come of it, _he told himself. This was all he had, all that was possible; and he would cherish this moment always.

He breathed steadily now, as his hand moved toward her soft, fine hair; he gently ran his fingers through it, a tender half-smile on his lips as a feeling of warmth spread through his chest and up to his face.

Cullen withdrew his hand as Gabby grunted softly and wrinkled her nose. He realised that he was pushing his luck, and should leave. He stood for a moment and looked down upon that which could never be his. He was a Templar, and she a mage, which meant they could never be together; but in this cherished moment, he was a man, and she a woman, and nothing more. She was the living, breathing embodiment of everything he desired, and loved; and everything that was forbidden and dangerous. That realisation only made his sense of loss more acute.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

Gabby's eyes flickered open and they both cried out in sudden fright. Cullen took several steps back, holding his hands up as Gabby scooted up the bed, pulling her night dress up to her neck. She gaped at him, unable to speak, as fear paralysed her.

"Please," he beseeched. "I-I didn't mean…I wasn't going to…"

Gabby, too panicked to assimilate his words, started to hyperventilate. She was utterly helpless; Cullen was a tall, stoutly built human male; she, a female elf. Any attempt at magic would be useless against a Templar. She was at his mercy, and decided her only option was to appeal to his conscience.

"Please, don't hurt me," she whimpered, as a tear rolled down her cheek.

"H-hurt you?" Cullen gasped. "I-I would never…" his words were cut off as his voice broke and he instinctively walked toward her, desperate to offer comfort and reassurance.

"Get out!" Gabby cried loudly. "Help me, please! Nate, I need you!"

Cullen's mouth fell open in horror. "I would never…" he repeated as he hastily departed.

Gabby's hands covered her mouth in an attempt to stifle her sobs. She wanted to get out of bed and lock her door, but was too terrified to move. The folly of her naïve and childish plan for Cullen became painfully clear to her, and she realised she had been an utter fool for believing that he could be saved, and that there could be any future for the two of them.

She jumped as she heard a nearby door slam. Her heart threatened to burst out of her chest as she heard footsteps approaching and the silhouette of a man entered her room.

"Nathaniel!" she sobbed, her panic and terror at their zenith. "Oh, Nathaniel!"

"Gabby?" he cried, rushing to her side. "What-what's happened?"

Gabby's fear was so complete that she was unable to speak; she broke down completely, feeling safe and protected in his presence. Nathaniel sat on her bed and pulled her close, stroking her hair and whispering to her. This was not an uncommon scene at Vigil's Keep; anyone staying at the Keep for any amount of time soon became accustomed to hearing screams in the middle of the night.

Gabby's nightmares were always the most intense, as the taint was stronger in her than in any of her fellow Wardens; although she had on occasion offered comfort to Anders, Sigrun or Nathaniel. It had always amused her that Anders and Nathaniel had no idea that their counterpart had been crying during the night; each man always made Gabby swear not to tell the other.

"Did you have a nightmare?" he asked gently. Gabby nodded quickly. She knew that telling him the truth would result in Cullen's immediate death, and quite probably Nathaniel's; he would either be cut down by the Templars or hanged for murder.

"Don't leave me alone," she pleaded, clinging to him. "Please, don't leave me alone."

"I won't," he promised.

Nathaniel sat with her until she finally fell asleep in his arms. Gently prying himself away from her, he covered her with a blanket, closed the door and settled in the chair next to her bed. He didn't go to sleep immediately, however; several troubling thoughts kept him awake.

Firstly, and most importantly, why was her bedroom door open when he had entered? Secondly, he had heard her shout 'get out'; in fact, that was what had woken him. That didn't sound typical of a darkspawn dream. Or had he imagined that? Misheard her? Finally, Gabby had never asked him to stay with her before. She was used to darkspawn dreams by now, and, after the initial distress, she would normally laugh it off and use it as an excuse for a nocturnal pig-out in the kitchen.

He pondered this for a long time, his shrewd mind mulling over the situation from all possible angles. He did not like the conclusion he arrived at over and over again.

Finally, his eyelids grew heavy, and he succumbed to sleep.

~O~

Nathaniel awoke the following morning, and turned his stiff neck toward Gabby's bed. It was neatly made. He rolled his head a few times and rubbed the back of his neck; he had not spent a comfortable night in the chair. He turned to the window where Gabby stood with her back to him. She was folding her robes and placing them into her backpack.

"Gabby?" he asked blearily. "What are you doing?"

She jumped at the sound of his voice and spoke without facing him. "Morning, Nathaniel," she said nonchalantly. "Did you sleep well?"

"Fairly," he replied. "What are you doing, Gabby?" he asked again.

"Packing," she said quietly. "I think it's time we went home."

Nathaniel watched her for a few moments and took a deep breath, anger welling up within him. "Why?" he asked sternly.

"We have our recruits, so there is no reason for us to stay any longer," she said listlessly.

Nathaniel stood up and walked over to her, standing directly in front of her. "What about your plan?" he asked. "The very reason we were staying here longer in the first place? And what about the little girl? You've made her some robes and now you're leaving before she arrives? What's going on, Gabby?"

"Nothing," she said unconvincingly. "I've just changed my mind, that's all."

"Gabby," he began, putting his hands on his hips, "don't even try…"

"I have no intention of explaining myself, Nathaniel," she snapped, still unable to meet his eyes. "Get your things packed. We're leaving after breakfast."

"Is that an order, Commander?" he asked with a challenging tone.

That had the desired effect. Gabby hated being called 'Commander,' especially by her friends, and detested the notion of ordering anyone to do anything. She abruptly stopped packing; Nathaniel noticed her shoulders tense.

"Please don't argue with me, Nathaniel," she replied, her voice fractured and brittle.

"Your hands are shaking!" he exclaimed angrily. "Tell me what's going on!" he demanded. "Something happened last night, didn't it? That was no nightmare!"

"Nathaniel, for the last time, we are leaving, _now_," she replied with a steely edge to her voice. "Get your belongings together."

"I'm not going anywhere," he answered unwaveringly, heading for the door, "until I get to the bottom of this."

Sudden panic rose in Gabby; she knew that Nathaniel was canny enough to put two and two together, and feared what he would do. "Warden Howe!" she said firmly, turning to face him. "I order you to be packed and ready to leave in half an hour's time!"

They stared at one another for a long and fraught moment. "Yes, Commander," Nathaniel said coolly, and exited the room.

~O~

Nathaniel did not, in fact, go to his room and begin packing as ordered, but instead made for the first floor. A few curious glances were cast his way as he headed downstairs; he was barefoot and wore only a night shirt and leggings.

He reached the main foyer; Sers Smyth and Bailey had returned with the mage child, and Smyth and Cullen stood outside his office, talking. Cullen looked exceedingly nervous at Nathaniel's appearance.

"Ah! Nathaniel!" Smyth said cordially upon spotting him. "Are you sleepwalking, Ser?" he asked amusedly as he took in Nathaniel's state of undress.

"No, Ser," Nathaniel answered grimly as Smyth shook his hand in greeting, his eyes firmly on Cullen, who blanched at his piercing gaze.

"Is…everything alright?" Smyth asked hesitantly, sensing the enmity between the two men.

"No, it's not," Nathaniel answered flatly, glancing at Smyth. "It would appear we're leaving, Tristan," he said angrily. "Immediately."

"Leaving?" Smyth replied in dismay. "I-I don't understand…why?"

"You tell me," he said directly to Cullen, who did not look at all surprised at Nathaniel's revelation. Ser Smyth watched as Cullen squirmed under Nathaniel's withering gaze. Nathaniel turned to Smyth. "I would like to speak to the Knight-Commander in private, please, Tristan," he said politely but firmly.

"Yes…of course," Smyth replied, and hesitated for a moment before reluctantly departing. _What has he done now? _Smyth wondered despairingly as he left.

Nathaniel waited until he and Cullen were alone before speaking. Cullen knew what was coming, and managed to meet Nathaniel's eyes, but only for seconds at a time.

"Someone stole into Gabby's room last night," Nathaniel said with barely-concealed fury, "leaving her a nervous wreck." He moved closer to Cullen; the Knight-Commander could feel the Warden's breath against his face. "I don't know exactly what he did, or tried to do, but I have a good idea," he said with disgust. "The only reason he still lives is that I have no proof of his identity," he said menacingly. "Should that come into my possession," he whispered abrasively, "no matter where I am, I will hunt that person down and wipe them off the face of Ferelden." Nathaniel took a step back. "Be assured of that," he spat, and turned and left without another word. Cullen stood motionless for a few moments before entering his office and closing the door.

Nathaniel made his way back up to his quarters, and was unsurprised to find Ser Smyth waiting outside for him. Nathaniel sighed and approached him. "What has happened, Nathaniel?" Smyth asked. "What has he done?"

"Nothing I can prove," Nathaniel said stiffly. "It is better you do not know."

Smyth frowned and sighed. "Is there nothing I can do to convince you to stay?" he asked earnestly.

"It is not my choice, Ser, but the Commander's," Nathaniel replied.

"May I speak with her?" Smyth asked. "Please."

Nathaniel nodded once. "Give me a few minutes to dress," he said.

"Of course," replied Ser Smyth. "I will wait here."

Nathaniel emerged a short time later and gestured for Smyth to accompany him. Gabby's room was situated next to his, a little further up the corridor, and he knocked on the door.

"Who is it?" she asked nervously.

"Nathaniel," he replied.

After a short pause, the click of the lock was heard, and she opened the door slowly. She had obviously been crying; her eyes were red and her face pale and blotchy. "Nathaniel, I'm so…" she began, before spotting Ser Smyth behind him.

"Oh, Ser Smyth! You're back!" she exclaimed, relieved that she did not have to deal with Nathaniel for now. "How was your trip to West Hill?" she asked.

"May I come in, Warden-Commander?" Smyth asked.

"Yes, of course you may, and it's Gabby, remember?" she reminded him, ushering him in. Her eyes wandered over toward Nathaniel, who was watching her closely. She averted her eyes from his and resumed her cheerful façade. "How is the little girl?" she asked.

"Gabby," Smyth said softly, "Nathaniel tells me you are planning to leave. May I ask why?"

"I…I just think it's time we returned to Vigil's Keep, that's all," she replied. "Our recruits are ready, now."

"But I thought we had discussed this," Smyth said carefully. "You agreed to spend some more time at the Tower to help the child settle in. She is looking forward to meeting you," he added.

Gabby turned away from him and bit back tears. She had been so looking forward to meeting the little girl, but knew she could not spend one more night at the Tower. "I think it would be better if I were not to meet her at all," she whispered.

"Gabby," Nathaniel suggested, seeing how much not meeting the girl would hurt her, "What if we stayed for the remainder of today, and left this evening? That way, you could meet the child, and we could have our _meeting _with our recruits before we set out? They will need time to prepare to leave, after all."

"Or, if you prefer not to stay here for whatever reason," Smyth added, "the Spoiled Princess now has rooms available."

Gabby was silent for several moments as she considered their ideas. "We'll stay for today as Nathaniel suggested," she finally decided, "and see what happens."

"I am glad to hear that, Gabby," Smyth replied with some relief. "The young girl is being bathed at the moment by one of the Chantry lay sisters," he informed her, "and can be brought to you a little later, whenever convenient."

"What's she like?" Gabby enquired.

Smyth grinned. "Fiercely intelligent, curious, and forthright," he replied. "She has come from a poor background, so will need help with her speech and diction, but learning her letters will present no problems."

"And have you seen her magic?" she asked.

"Oh yes," Smyth answered. "She tried to curse Ser Bailey and I several times, at her home and on the way back here," he said with a smile. "She is very talented, for one so young. She just needs to learn a little restraint, that's all."

"I recommend, Gabby, that we speak to our recruits first," Nathaniel ventured. "That way, they will have to rest of the day to think about…"

Gabby nodded in understanding. "Yes, that's a good idea, Nathaniel," she replied. "As always, from you," she added with a rueful grin.

Nathaniel's mouth twisted with a hint of a smile and he nodded deferentially. "I'll round them up," he said, opening the door.

"I will bring the young girl to meet you…after lunch?" Ser Smyth suggested.

"That would be fine, thank you," Gabby replied. Ser Smyth bowed briefly as he and Nathaniel exited.

Upon closing the door, the two men heard the lock click into place. Nathaniel stood for a moment, staring at the door with his arms folded. Ser Smyth noticed that Nathaniel's hands were clenched into fists. "I'm going across to the Spoiled Princess to book two rooms," he said to Smyth. "I want to check on our horses at the stables, as well, too."

"They are being well cared for," Smyth informed him as they walked. "Martin and I went to see them when we stabled our own horses."

"Thank you. I appreciate that," Nathaniel replied. The rest of their walk downstairs passed in silence; Smyth could sense a brooding tension in Nathaniel, and decided that now was not the time for small talk. As they reached the first floor, Smyth noticed Nathaniel fixedly staring at Cullen's office door as he waited for the Templars to open the main door.

Bidding him goodbye, Smyth waited until he had left and knocked on Cullen's door.

"Come in," Cullen answered.

As he entered, Cullen spoke before Smyth had a chance to. "Are the Wardens leaving?" he asked anxiously.

"Nathaniel has persuaded the Warden-Commander to stay for the remainder of the day," said Smyth, "so that she may be introduced to the new apprentice. They will not be staying at the Tower, however," he added. "Nathaniel has gone across the lake to book rooms at the Princess."

Cullen remained silent for a moment, deep in thought. He nodded. "I see," he murmured quietly, biting his nails.

Smyth took a deep breath. "Ser, what happened last night?" he asked plainly, not expecting an answer to be forthcoming.

Cullen looked up at him for a moment. Smyth was fully expecting Cullen's temper to flare, and was therefore surprised to see the slump of his Commander's shoulders as he sank back in his chair.

"A misunderstanding," Cullen said quietly, casting his eyes down. "It was entirely my fault. I…I acted without thinking, and now everything has gone horribly wrong…" his voice faltered, and he said no more.

Ser Smyth felt an ache of pity for his Commander. He took a risk and sat down without being invited to. Cullen did not react. "Ser," Smyth ventured, "perhaps if you told me the nature of the misunderstanding, I may be able to help?"

Cullen shook his head. Smyth was a devout Templar and Andrastian; Cullen had no doubt he would vehemently disapprove of his actions. Cullen knew he'd had no business being in her bedroom in the middle of the night, and now, the day after, he was dismayed and appalled at what he had done, no matter how benign his reasons had been. He thought back to how frightened she'd been of him; the look of utter terror on her face. He knew that he had ruined any chance of the two of them ever being friends, now. Her acceptance was suddenly all that mattered to him; now that his chance was lost, he didn't really care what Howe did to him.

"Ser?" Smyth asked gently, interrupting Cullen's thoughts.

Cullen took a deep breath and exhaled. "No, Tristan," Cullen said. "It's better you don't know. You would think even less of me if you did, if that is even possible."

"Ser…" Smyth said quietly, then hesitated, unable to find words.

"That will be all, Tristan," Cullen mumbled. "Thank you."

~O~

When Nathaniel returned, having successfully booked rooms at the inn, he rounded up the Templar recruits and took them to his quarters. He bade them to sit; two of them sat on chairs, and the other two on the edge of his bed. Nathaniel stood.

"Gabby and I are thinking of returning to Vigil's Keep, soon," he announced, "although at present we do not know the exact date of departure. I think this an appropriate time to speak with you all," he said, pacing back and forth and trying to hide his anxiety; a feeling he didn't experience often.

"There are some things you need to know about what it means to be a Grey Warden," he said solemnly, looking around the room. The Templars watched him expectantly. "Firstly," he began, "to become a Warden, one must undergo a trial known as the Joining." He chose his words carefully; he did not think the word 'ritual' would go down well with Templars.

"I've heard of that," said Ser Richardson, "although I do not know what it entails."

"Unfortunately, Luke, I cannot tell you what it entails until the time comes," Nathaniel responded. "What I will tell you, however, is that the Joining is potentially dangerous to you."

"Dangerous?" asked Ser Ballard. "How?"

"I'm sorry, Conn," he replied. "That is all I can say."

"Just a moment, Nathaniel," said Ser Willoughby, "now you've told us it could be dangerous, I think you should at least explain why," he said reasonably.

"Meredith, I've already told you more than I should," Nathaniel replied. "I fear I cannot be more explicit on this matter."

The Templars fell quiet for a few moments. Ser Bailey watched Nathaniel carefully. "There's something else, isn't there?" he asked astutely.

"Yes, Martin," Nathaniel replied. "The Joining will change you in several ways; some good changes, some bad. The effects of the Joining will stay with you until your dying day."

"And can you tell us of these changes?" asked Ser Willoughby.

"I'm sorry, no," he replied. "Not until after the Joining."

"Why can't you tell us?" asked Ser Ballard.

Nathaniel sighed. "It is not my choice," he stated. "The Grey Wardens are bound by a code of honour. We are never to reveal Warden matters to non-Wardens."

"And yet you are doing so now, in a way," Ser Richardson countered.

"Yes, I know it seems a contradiction," Nathaniel mused, "but Gabby and I thought it only fair to warn you, and to give you a chance to reconsider," he said. "Once we arrive at Vigil's Keep, the Joining must be undertaken without delay, and there can be no reconsidering at that point."

"And what if we change our minds during the Joining?" asked Ser Willoughby.

Nathaniel groaned inwardly. "Once you have committed to undertake the Joining, there is no turning back," he stated gravely. "If there is the slightest doubt in any of your minds, I would strongly recommend you reconsider while we are here. There would be…_consequences_ were you to change your mind during the Joining," he said ominously. "I hope you will not place Gabby or I in such an invidious position."

The Templars exchanged glances; they seemed to grasp the meaning of his words. "I will advise you when our departure is imminent," Nathaniel continued. "You have until then to decide. There is no point asking Gabby for details, as she will not add anything further to what I have already told you."

"You may have my answer now, Nathaniel," said Ser Richardson. "I still intend to become a Grey Warden, in spite of the risks."

"I appreciate that, Luke," he replied, "but you are still free to reconsider. That is all I have to say, and all I can say," he finished. "Thank you for your time."

The Templars rose to their feet and departed, mumbling their thanks. Conn was very quiet on his way out, and for a moment Nathaniel was tempted to take him aside and tell him more, but refrained from doing so.

~O~

Nathaniel called at Gabby's quarters after his meeting with their recruits; he was surprised to find a Templar stationed outside. He knocked the door, and Gabby called him in. He entered to find her with the little girl, who sat on Gabby's lap as she braided the child's hair. Wren was wearing one of her new robes. Several sheets of Vellum were scattered across the table, all featuring simple, childish drawings.

"Oh, Wren, this is my friend, Nathaniel," said Gabby. Wren jumped off her lap and folded her arms across her chest, then bowed to him. Nathaniel gaped in surprise.

"She's imitating the Templars," Gabby laughed. "She thinks that's how everyone greets each other."

Nathaniel crouched down and held his hand out. "How do you do, young lady?" he asked politely. Wren, imitating him, held her own hand out. Nathaniel gently clasped her hand with the tips of his fingers and shook it. "That is how I greet people, Wren," he said softly. Wren walked closer to him and tugged at one of his braids. "Yes, your hair is similar to mine," he said with a smile. Wren glanced at him shyly before retreating behind Gabby's legs.

Nathaniel rose to his feet. "I've spoken to the Templars," he informed Gabby. "And I've booked us in at the Spoiled Princess, just in case you change your mind."

"You think of everything, don't you?" Gabby said sheepishly. She stood up. "I'm…I'm really sorry about earlier," she said softly.

"No, I'm the one who should be sorry," he replied. "I shouldn't have barged out like that, when you were clearly upset."

Gabby took his hands and kissed his cheek. "You know I would never speak to you like that normally, don't you?"

"I know," he said with a laugh, looking behind Gabby. Wren was snickering behind the table, having witnessed their kiss. Gabby laughed.

"Well, I'll leave you two ladies to…gossip, or knit, or do whatever it is women do," he said cheekily.

"Will you still have afternoon tea with us?" Gabby asked.

"Yes, of course," replied Nathaniel. "I'll be in my room. Give me a shout."

"I will," Gabby promised.

"Farewell, Wren," Nathaniel said to the little girl with a wave of his hand. She peered from around the table and giggled to herself. Nathaniel laughed and left the room, closing the door behind him.

"Now, let's get your hair finished," said Gabby, scooping Wren up onto her lap. "Then we'll go for a walk around the Tower, and show off your new look to everyone, yes?"

Wren nodded. "'abby," she asked, mispronouncing her name, "whe' Mama?"

"Come on, you didn't finish telling me about your drawings," said Gabby, hoping to distract her.

Gabby closed her eyes and sighed as Wren proceeded to show her what she'd drawn. As they were talking, Gabby noticed a folded piece of paper being pushed under her door.

She put Wren down and went to the door as quickly as she could. Nobody was there. The Templar was gone, sent away on an errand. A small note lay on the floor. She picked it up and read it as she closed the door.

_Gabby,_

_I cannot tell you how sorry I am for what happened last night. It was never my intention to frighten you. I can see now how misguided my actions were, but I swear to you I never intended you any harm._

_Please give me a chance to explain myself. I will wait for you in the gardens in one hour's time. You should feel safe there, as there are plenty of people around._

_Please, just hear me out. Then, if you still wish to leave, I will not stand in your way, and I will never trouble you again. If you do not come, I will understand, but I hope that you do._

_Cullen._


	12. An old friendship reforged

**Thank you so much to those of you who review regularly, it really means the world to me :) Also thanks to those of you who have story-alerted or favourited.**

**Jen, my always excellent Beta-Reader and friend, thank you so much for another excellent job, and for putting up with me being a mercurial pain in the arse! ;)**

**~O~**

Gabby slumped onto her chair as she read the note several times over. She realised her hands were shaking, and placed the note on the table, meshing her fingers together as she attempted to swallow down the lump in her throat.

"Look, 'abby,'" said Wren, tugging at her robe and waving a piece of paper at her.

"Oh yes, it's beautiful, Wren," Gabby said with a pained smile. "Why don't you draw something else for me?"

Wren nodded, took some papers and pieces of charcoal, and sat on the floor. Gabby picked up the note and her stomach knotted as she read it again.

_I never intended you any harm._

_Why, then, was he standing over my bed in the middle of the night_, she asked herself? She stared at the far wall as she recounted the previous night's events, recalling how he backed away from her as she awoke. _Was that because he was discovered? _she wondered. _What was he going to do?_

Then came the realisation that Cullen could easily have harmed her if he had so chosen. He could have depleted her mana in a second, leaving her completely helpless; he could have covered her mouth with his hand to silence her. But he did neither, she realised. _Just what __**was **__he doing, then?_

She was utterly confused; a sob caught in the back of her throat, which she quickly swallowed down. She didn't want Wren to see her upset. She read the note again, and several times more until the words seemed to blur in front of her eyes.

"Wren?" she asked after a while. The little apprentice looked up from her drawings. "How would you like to come and meet a friend of mine?" Gabby offered.

"Na'niel?" the little girl asked.

Gabby turned toward her and smiled. "You have a very good memory, Wren," she said proudly, "and his name is _Nathaniel_."

"Na'niel," Wren repeated, and Gabby laughed, in spite of the way she felt.

"No, it's not Nathaniel we're going to see. It's a lady," she said. "A small lady, not much bigger than you!" she chirped, "so you won't have to hurt your neck by looking up-up-UP all of the time!"

Wren giggled and nodded her head enthusiastically. "Come on, then," Gabby said as she rose from her chair, helping Wren to her feet. "She's a very nice lady, Wren," she informed her, taking her hand, "and I bet she'd love to meet you!"

"Wha'ser name?" asked Wren as they exited the room.

"Dagna," Gabby replied. "She's a teacher here, and will be helping you to learn your letters."

"Le'ers?" Wren asked confoundedly with a frown.

"She'll teach you to read and write," Gabby explained. "And she'll teach you a lot about magic. She knows more about magic than every mage in this Tower put together."

"She bein' like us?" Wren asked excitedly as they reached the door leading to the second floor.

"No, she can't cast spells," Gabby replied. "She's a dwarf. But she's very clever, and you could learn much from her."

~O~

Gabby and Wren reached the library, and waited patiently for Dagna, who was tutoring some young apprentices, to spot them. The dwarf's eyes lit up as she saw Gabby, and she set her pupils a written task, then skipped over to greet them.

"Warden Gabby!" she squealed, almost crushing her in an enthusiastic hug. "I had heard you were here, but hadn't seen you! I was beginning to wonder if I was imagining things! I do that, sometimes, you know…"

Gabby grinned as Dagna continued to ramble on excitedly. "I was meaning to come and say hello, Dagna," Gabby interjected, as soon as she could get a word in, "but I've been really busy. It's good to see you again."

Dagna gasped as she glanced at Wren. "And who is this pretty little thing?" she asked, crouching down. "Aw, don't you look adorable, with the flower in your hair, and your beautiful robe?"

Wren held her hand out, in imitation of Nathaniel's handshake, and Dagna shook it. "Well, I'm pleased to meet you, too!" the dwarf exclaimed. "How would you like to come to one of my lessons, when you've settled in?" she asked.

Wren shrugged her shoulders and shyly clung to Gabby's leg. "I think she'll love your lessons," Gabby said. "She's very intelligent." Gabby took Dagna to one side for a moment. "Actually," she murmured, "I was wondering if I could leave her with you for a bit? I have something to take care of, and it probably wouldn't be her sort of thing."

"Sure!" Dagna trilled, taking Wren's hand in her own. "Would you like to come and meet some little friends?" the dwarf asked the little girl. Wren's lower lip started to wobble.

Gabby crouched down. "I'll be back shortly, Wren," she said brightly, "and then you can try on your other robe, and, if you like, you can pick out the colours for your next one. What do you think?"

Wren, still pouting, nodded her head gloomily. "Come on, then, gorgeous!" Dagna said in her infectious singsong voice, leading her over to a chair. Gabby walked over and stayed with Wren for a while until she was sure she had settled in.

"Thanks, Dagna," Gabby said with a wink. "I'll bring you some flowers from the garden, Wren," she promised, with a wave of her hand as she departed.

Gabby made her way to the rear exit of the Tower, which led to the gardens; her stomach knotting tighter and tighter as she neared it. She had no idea of what to expect. Cullen's note had been so heartfelt, yet she wondered if he would act differently toward her in person. He seemed to be one large contradiction; he acted as though he didn't care for her, and yet she had seen something in his eyes when she spoke to him that indicated otherwise. She didn't know if she could take another rejection from him, and still planned to leave the Tower that night, just in case.

~O~

Nathaniel had just finished cleaning and oiling his weapons in his quarters, when he realised it must be about time for afternoon tea. To save Gabby the trouble of calling for him, he went to her quarters and knocked the door. When no answer came, he gingerly opened the door. "Gabby?" he called as he peered inside.

Gabby and Wren were not there. Nathaniel snorted in amusement at the state of Gabby's quarters. Papers and drawings were scattered about, some hung up on the walls; and several of Gabby's robes and belongings were thrown carelessly onto the bed. He walked in to close the shutters at the window, as the breeze was causing the papers to fly around the room, making even more of a mess. As he turned to leave, he spotted a note on the table. He glanced around furtively, and, unable to resist, picked it up and started to read.

A dour expression settled onto his face as he read, and his cold grey eyes stared unblinkingly into the distance as his mouth set in a hard, grim line.

"I knew it!" he hissed, slamming his hand against the table. "I bloody knew it!"

~O~

Gabby entered the Tower's gardens. Cullen had been correct; there were plenty of people milling around. Although she had arrived early, Cullen was already there, and Gabby's breath hitched as she spotted him. He sat alone on a bench, intently examining his fingers; his gauntlets and helm lay next to him on the bench. Gabby frowned as she watched him; although he was a clear foot taller than her, and must have weighed more than twice as much, she was dismayed at how small he appeared to her, despite the fact he was outfitted in full Templar armour. His shoulders were slumped, and his elbows rested against his bent knees; he almost seemed to be protecting himself from something. He glanced around occasionally, and, when he was sure no one was watching him, he chewed on his fingernails.

Gabby swallowed hard and slowly walked toward him. He looked up, and, immediately upon spotting her, rose to his feet. They stood several paces apart, not speaking for a few moments. Neither could meet the other's eyes.

"Thank you for coming," Cullen said softly. Gabby's heart raced as she was again reminded of the gentle Cullen she once knew. "Would you like to sit down?" he asked nervously, gesturing toward the bench.

Gabby nodded and sat at one end of the bench; Cullen sat a respectable distance away from her, his helm and gauntlets separating them.

"Beautiful day, isn't it?" Gabby remarked, then immediately cringed for making vacuous small talk.

"Indeed it is," Cullen replied politely, looking up at the sky. Gabby studied him for a moment; she had never before seen him in bright sunlight, and marvelled at how his auburn hair gleamed as though the embers of a fire were contained just beneath it. He glanced at her briefly; the sun caught his amber eyes for a second, seeming to lift all traces of darkness and doubt from his face. It was at that moment that Gabby realised how beautiful he was to her, and that she was still in love with him. She didn't believe that he would do anything to hurt her, but had to ascertain his reasons for being in her room the previous night.

Cullen cleared his throat and sighed. "I, erm…" he began, then stared into the distance for a moment, before clearing his throat again. "I'm sorry," he blurted out. "For-for frightening you, I mean," he said quietly, looking at the ground. Gabby noticed that his right leg was jiggling.

"What were you doing in my room, Cullen?" she asked steadily.

Cullen fell silent, occasionally opening his mouth, as though to speak, then closing it again; the furrow in his brow deepening each time. "I…this is difficult for me," he said at last. "I'm going to tell you something that nobody else knows," he said, almost in a whisper. "Well, they do know…but I've never explained it to anyone."

"Alright," Gabby said gently, nodding her head. "Take your time."

After a long pause, Cullen spoke. "I, um…I have dreams," he said quietly, gulping. "Very disturbing dreams."

"Are they about Uldred?" she asked cautiously, bracing herself for a reaction.

Cullen looked directly at her, terror forming in his eyes. He quickly averted his gaze, and his breathing quickened. "You…you know about that?" he asked unsteadily.

Gabby glanced around; the urge to move closer to him was strong, but there were too many people around. "I know of some of the atrocities that Uldred committed, yes," she said carefully, "against many people."

Cullen nodded, his eyes fixed on a point in the distance. He swallowed heavily and took a deep breath, exhaling noisily. "I dream about you, sometimes," he admitted. Gabby nodded, trying to maintain her composure, but she felt tears pricking at the back of her eyes.

"Well, it's not really you," he said, his voice quaking. Gabby held her breath for a second. "I…" Cullen began, then his face crumpled. He immediately turned away from her, obscuring his face with his hand.

"Cullen…" she whispered. "It's alright, you can tell me. Take as much time as you need." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a paper bag containing sugared almonds, and held it out to him; it was all she could do to make any sort of contact with him. He glanced round and peered into the bag, took a sweet and popped it into his mouth. He nodded in thanks, and Gabby fancied she saw a ghost of a smile cross his lips.

Heartened by her gesture, he swivelled his hips a little and now sat facing more toward, than away from her, although his eyes remained fixed on the ground. "Gabby," he said, using her first name, "something happened to me. A-a demon…" he began, then fell quiet again.

Gabby felt wretched; she didn't want him to relive what the Desire Demon had done to him, but neither could she let him know that she had knowledge of it. "Go on," she said softly.

"The demon…" he started, "it-it pretended to be you," he said, a harsh, tinny quality creeping into his voice. "I-I…I thought I was g-going to die," he wavered. "I…gave in to temptation, Gabby," he finished as his voice finally broke. "Please forgive me!" he cried out.

Gabby immediately stood up, positioning herself in front of him, so no one could see the Knight-Commander of the Tower weeping. Her eyes darted around, watching the occupants of the garden intently, all whilst trying to keep her own anguish under control. Behind her, she could hear Cullen taking deep breaths as he desperately sought to subjugate his grief. She ached to touch him, to offer him some solace, but they were in a public place, and besides, she didn't know how Cullen would respond to such a gesture.

Eventually, Cullen's sobs subsided and his breathing returned to normal. "Thank you," he whispered. Gabby cast him a wary glance as she moved aside and sat back on the bench. He had composed himself, but his skin had turned lily-white, with no hint of its usual pink flush.

"I-I'm sorry you had to see that," he mumbled, ashamed of his loss of control.

"There's nothing wrong with showing one's feelings, Cullen," she said soothingly. "In fact, it's a trait I admire in people." She wondered if he'd heard her slight emphasis on the word 'admire;' it was meant for him.

"You must feel sickened by what I've just told you," Cullen uttered, so quietly she had to strain to hear him. He shook his head and sank back on the bench with his arms wrapped around his chest, in a self-comforting action.

"I do," she replied, "But I am only sickened at how much distress it has caused you."

Cullen sat forward. "B-but I…with _her_…I…sinned," he stammered. "I sinned," he repeated with disgust in his voice, "with what I believed to be you." He looked into her eyes and forced himself not to look away. "You must feel horribly violated by that, Gabby," he said, his voice wavering once again.

"I don't," she said simply, reaching for his hand, which was placed on the bench, not far from her. Cullen slowly balled his fist and drew his hand away.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I-I find it d-difficult to…touch people, now."

Gabby's hand covered her mouth as she finally lost control of herself and wept. Cullen looked at her despairingly, and passed her a clean handkerchief with a trembling hand. Her fingers brushed against his as she took it, and lingered there for just a second longer than they needed to; Cullen's stomach lurched dramatically at the feel of her skin against his. The impulse to touch her came upon him once again; this time more fervently, more urgently than ever before. He rose to his feet, intending to put some physical distance between them, then immediately sat down again, as he realised with alarm that he had hardened beneath his skirt.

Gabby dried her eyes and folded the handkerchief neatly. Silence descended on them again. To passers-by, they appeared to be quietly admiring the freshly dug flowerbeds in front of the bench; the reality was far more complex. No casual observer would detect the powerful and almost tangible force that drew the two Commanders together, or the equally powerful self-control they were both forced to exercise to combat the urges that bloomed inside of them.

"Did you think I was the demon, Cullen, when you entered my room?" Gabby asked finally; there was no malice or accusation in her voice, just concern.

"Oh, no," he answered emphatically. "I…I don't know if you will be able to understand this, Gabby," he said, his voice softening.

"Please, tell me," she asked. "I have to know your reasons."

Cullen closed his eyes and sighed. He knew he could trust her; he had confided in her many times in the past, as she had in him. He just feared that she wouldn't understand. "I…had a dream last night," he began, "about Uldred, then about you. Well…not you." He gulped; his mouth had suddenly become dry. "May I have another one of those?" he asked shyly.

"Of course," Gabby replied with a smile, passing him the bag of sweets. He took one and popped it into his mouth.

"Thank you," he said with a wan smile, returning the bag to her. He took a deep breath. "I awoke after falling out of bed," he continued. "I'd banged my head, and was still half asleep," he explained. "I…I just…" he sighed and shook his head. "I…had to be near you, Gabby," he confessed.

He stood up, no longer encumbered by his problem. Gabby rose with him, and they began to walk. She waited patiently for him to speak.

"I didn't really know what I was doing at the time," he explained. "I just…wanted to…touch you," he confessed with a gulp. He stopped in his tracks. "Not in an inappropriate way!" he added hastily. "I didn't…I just touched your face, Gabby," he said truthfully. "I needed to know it was _you_. Can…can you understand that?"

"I think so," she replied thoughtfully.

"The-the demon always feels so…cold and _hard_," he related anxiously. "Whereas you…you were warm, and soft, and I could hear you breathing…" he stopped abruptly as he feared he would frighten her. "…and I knew then that you were real, and were not the demon," he finished. "Can you understand that, Gabby?" he repeated.

Gabby stopped in front of him. "Yes," she whispered. "I understand completely, Cullen." She realised suddenly that they were standing rather close to one another, and immediately crouched down to pick some flowers for Wren.

"If you wish," Cullen began, "I mean, if it would make you more comfortable, that is, I will stay out of your way while you are here, instead of you having to leave."

"Is that what you really want?" she asked, glancing up at him.

"No," he answered, "but I would hate the thought of you leaving because you were afraid of me."

Having gathered her flowers, she stood up. "Although you did startle me last night, Cullen," she whispered, "I am not afraid of you, no."

Cullen exhaled shakily and nodded his head. "Thank you, for understanding," he mumbled, fiddling with his fingers. "Somehow, I knew you would."

"You realise, don't you, that Nathaniel and I will have to leave soon," she said sadly.

"I know," he answered. "I would hope that in the time you are here, we can…be friends?" he asked awkwardly, the corners of his mouth twitching with the nascence of a smile.

Gabby smiled warmly, her eyes bright with joy. "Of course!" she replied. "We always were friends, after all. We just had a little…hiccup in our friendship, that's all." Cullen's face softened at her words.

"I have to go and check on Wren, now," she said, taking the bag of sweets from her pocket. "Here," she said, placing it in his hand. "I know you always liked these." He caught her eye as she winked at him and walked away, and stared, open-mouthed, as she headed toward the door and entered the Tower.

Gabby returned to Dagna and was delighted to learn that Wren wasn't yet ready to leave. This came as a huge relief to Gabby, who had been afraid that Wren would become too attached to her, just as she was making plans to leave the Tower for Vigil's Keep.

Promising to return to Dagna when lesson time was over, she headed to her room, her mind awhirl. She opened the door and started at the sight of Nathaniel sitting on one of her chairs.

"N-Nathaniel?" she asked sharply. "You made me jump!"

Nathaniel rose to his feet, walked over to the door and closed it. He turned to Gabby and gave her a hard look. "What did Cullen do to you," he said quietly, with a dangerous undertone to his voice.

"What?" Gabby cried in dismay. "What do you…"

"I found _this_," he spat, waving Cullen's letter at her.

"You've been going through my things?" she asked angrily. "How dare you!"

"I came in here looking for you, and it was on top of the table for all to see!" he exclaimed. "So don't accuse me of going through your things, Gabby!" He clasped his forehead with his hand and took a deep breath. "I'll ask you again," he said more calmly this time, though his voice trembled. "What did he do to you last night?"

"Nothing!" she protested, pushing past him and walking over to the table. "He just…scared me, that's all."

"That's _all_?" Nathaniel asked angrily. "You were bloody petrified, Gabby!"

"I know," she replied calmly, trying to disguise the panic that had welled up inside her. She realised she needed to keep Nathaniel calm, for fear of what he would do to Cullen. "It was all a misunderstanding…" she began.

"A misunderstanding?" Nathaniel scoffed contemptuously. "What is there to misunderstand, Gabby? He was in your bedroom in the middle of the night! The only man who has a right to be there would be your husband, were you married!"

"Things are not always so black and white, Nathaniel," she answered. "You were there, too, and you're not my husband."

"Don't even try to compare the two!" he yelled, his anger rising dangerously. "How can you possibly justify his actions? The only reason he didn't do whatever he had planned was because you woke up and caught him in the act!"

"He had nothing planned," she implored. "He has explained himself to me and I believe him."

"You actually met up with him?" Nathaniel said as he walked closer to her, his face beginning to redden. "He's wheedled you, hasn't he?" he growled. "He's beguiled you with artful talk! There's only one name for a man like that, Gabby – a bounder!" He walked over toward the door. "Well, he obviously didn't learn his lesson the last time, did he?" he spat with lethal intent in his eyes.

Gabby rushed over to the door, blocking his exit. "If you hurt him, I'll never forgive you!" she shouted. "You don't know what he's been through!" she exclaimed, her voice thick with emotion.

"That is no excuse for his behaviour!" Nathaniel cried.

"Please," she begged, laying her hands on his chest, "you don't know the whole story. Vile and atrocious acts were committed upon him, Nathaniel. He's a good man," she urged.

Nathaniel turned away from her and paced back and forth. "A good man?" he questioned, his voice losing its hard edge. "I don't understand how you can be so easily taken in, Gabby."

"You didn't know him before," she said quietly. "He's been through an horrific ordeal, and he's starting to come through it. He…he's having to readjust to everyday life and situations, tormented by memories and dreams," she explained. "Sometimes, he's not going to get it right first time."

Nathaniel exhaled shakily and sat down at the table, resting his head on his hand.

"I would feel the same, were I in your position," said Gabby, taking a seat next to him, "and it gladdens my heart to know I have you as my champion, Nathaniel," she said proudly. "There is no one I would rather have at my back. But I'm asking you to trust me," she said softly, taking his hand, "when I tell you that Cullen poses no threat to me."

Nathaniel's expression softened a little, although his anger still bubbled beneath the surface. He looked resolutely at Gabby. "For your sake, I will restrain myself for the time being," he promised, "although, if he ever tries anything like that again, what he has been through in the past will have been a picnic compared to what I have planned for him."

"Of that, I have no doubt," she replied. "But you needn't worry," she reassured him, "he will never do anything like that again, of that I am certain."

"You'll have to forgive me if I don't accept that as readily as you have," Nathaniel said sternly.

"That's understandable," she replied.

"So what happens now?" Nathaniel asked tersely. "Are we staying at the Tower?"

Gabby nodded. "Yes, I think so," she replied quietly.

Nathaniel rose to his feet. "I'll go over and cancel the reservations at the inn, then," he said with a huff.

"I can do that," she offered.

"No, it's alright," he replied, obviously still tense. "I need some fresh air, anyway." He walked over to the door. "I'm not taking my eyes off him, Gabby," he said resolutely. "Not for one moment."

She nodded wearily and began to speak, but Nathaniel had already closed the door.


	13. The calm before the storm

**Thank you so much to those of you who take the time to review, and for story-alerting, favouriting, or just reading! :D**

**Thanks once again to Jen for another awesome edit! Hope you liked the 'alternate' version of Smyth and Cullen in the office! A reward for your hard work ;)**

**~O~**

The handsome man looked glumly at himself in the mirror. He was dressed from head to toe in the finest, most exquisite vestments money could buy, specially commissioned from Orlais; a cream and gold brocade cotehardie and matching chaperon hat, cream hose, and a pale gold belt and poulaines. He kept tugging at the hem of his cotehardie in a vain bid for modesty; he had never worn hose before in his life, save beneath his armour for warmth, and felt that wearing it alone showed off more of his legs than was decent. He huffed and threw his hat onto a chair, messing his carefully coiffured and pomaded hair.

_You look like a bloody fool, Alistair, _he thought morosely. _I should have put my foot down and insisted I wear my armour._

He picked up his hat and sat down. "Well," he said to the hat. "If I'd put my foot down in the first place, I wouldn't be here now, would I?"

A firm knock sounded on his door. "What?" he said heavily.

Regent Eamon peered around the door. Alistair sulkily looked away from him. "Sire," the Regent began, "the contingent from Vigil's Keep has arrived. You asked me to inform…"

Alistair leapt to his feet. "They're all here?" he asked hopefully.

"Alas, no, Your Majesty," Eamon replied. "The Warden-Commander is unable to attend, as is her second. Seneschal Varel and two other Wardens are here."

"And they've only just told you that?" Alistair asked. "Was there no letter, no formal apologies given?"

"Yes, Your Majesty," Eamon replied hesitantly, aware of the agitation in the King's voice. "Formal apologies from the Warden-Commander were received a few days ago. She sends her best…"

"And I wasn't informed of this until now?" Alistair snapped.

"Sire," Eamon said with a sigh, "you cannot concern yourself with every trivial detail of this wedding. Her apologies were noted and will be read out along with the others."

"Bring me the letter, Eamon," Alistair commanded.

"But, Sire, I'm not even sure where…" Eamon began.

"_Now_, Eamon," Alistair interrupted. "And have someone fetch my dress armour," he said, looking at himself in the mirror with disdain. "I'm not wearing this ridiculous get-up."

"But Sire," Eamon protested, "the style you wear is particularly fashionable amongst high nobles, and is considered…"

"No, Eamon!" Alistair cut in. "I would like to have a say in at least _one_ thing today, if that is alright with you?" he said gruffly. "Now do as I have asked."

"Of course, Your Majesty," Eamon replied and began to close the door.

"And have Seneschal Varel sent up to me," Alistair instructed.

"May I ask why, Your Majesty?" Eamon asked. Alistair turned toward him and glared without speaking. "At once, Your Majesty," Eamon mumbled, and closed the door.

~O~

Anders fidgeted and cursed under his breath as he adjusted his robe. "That's the worst case of hungry ass I've ever seen, boy," Oghren remarked as Anders reclaimed his smallclothes from the crack of his arse for the umpteenth time.

"Blast it!" Anders seethed, hoping that none of the pretty or important ladies could see what he was doing. The men could take a running jump, for all he cared. "I would take them off," he moaned, "but then my robe would get eaten up, instead!"

"Well, you did insist on wearing a robe, Anders," Varel gently reminded him.

"And what _should_ I have worn?" Anders huffed petulantly. "Half-length trousers and big puffy sleeves like the rest of them?" he observed, scanning the room. "They all look ridiculous," he pouted, with a pointed look at Oghren.

"And this, coming from a man in a sodding dress!" Oghren scoffed.

"Oh, go boil your head, dwarf," Anders replied caustically. "And anyway, why was I forced to come along, when the other Wardens and Shale get to stay behind?"

Varel did his best to stop a smile forming on his lips at Anders' sulking, but failed. "As you well know, Anders, most of the other Wardens at Vigil's Keep are apostates," Varel reminded him, "and feared that Templars would be here. Shale was concerned about the number of pigeons in Denerim, and today is the anniversary of Sigrun's 'death,' or so she claims."

"Anniversary?" Anders snorted. "That's cobblers, and you know it, Varel."

"Cobblers or not," Varel smirked, "far be it from me to impugn her beliefs."

The three men stood in the vestibule at the Arl of Denerim's estate. Several hundred people were in attendance, all dressed up to the nines. Varel sported his Silverite armour, polished to a mirror shine; Oghren, being an old friend of the King's, had made a sterling effort and donned a rich burgundy doublet, white shirt with puffball sleeves and dark brown pantaloons. Anders had not made his usual effort at all, and had worn the dullest, drabbest robe he could get his hands on; a rather muted, unadorned, sage green number, after his turquoise and lime green robe had mysteriously vanished. He hadn't even bothered to wear an earring. He had no desire to be there at all, and thought of his friend Gabby, and of how she must be feeling today. He missed her terribly. He even missed Nate, though the two men did nothing but bicker when they were together.

The King and his bride-to-be were due to formally present themselves in approximately one hour, at which time they and the entire wedding party would walk through the streets to Denerim Palace. This was rather an unconventional way of doing things, but Alistair felt it important that the 'ordinary' folk of Denerim had a glance of their King and Queen on their big day. Upon their arrival at the Palace, their union would be blessed by the Grand Cleric, and Ferelden would have a new Queen.

"Pardon me, Ser, are you Seneschal Varel?" a young elven page enquired from behind them.

"Yes, lad, that's me," Varel replied, turning to face him. "What can I do for you?"

"His Majesty the King has requested an audience with you, Ser," the elf announced.

"With _me_?" Varel asked in surprise. "Oh, of course," he mumbled, having an idea of why the King would wish to speak to him. "I'll be back shortly," he said to Anders and Oghren with a bemused shrug.

Oghren grunted in response. If Anders had not been there, he would have insisted on going to see the King with Varel, but didn't want to leave the young mage on his own. Although Oghren and Anders berated each other constantly, a grudging friendship did exist between them, although neither of them would ever admit to such a thing.

"Come on, kid," Oghren said with a hearty slap to Anders' back, knocking back his wine in one gulp. "Let's find out where they keep the _real _booze."

~O~

Alistair's Squire was helping him on with his armour when a knock sounded at his door. "Yes?" he answered.

The elven page entered, bowing low. "May I present Seneschal Varel, of Vigil's Keep, Your Majesty," he announced.

"Thank you," said Alistair. "Go and get yourselves some food, you two," he added, addressing the page and his Squire. "You've been running around after me all morning. Here," he said, taking two red wax discs from a box and handing them to the two men. "If anyone questions your presence at the buffet table, show them this. It's the Royal Seal, and gives you permission to be there."

Bowing low and uttering their thanks, the two men departed. Alistair ushered Varel in and warmly shook his hand. "It's good to see you again, Seneschal Varel. Please, sit down," he offered.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Varel replied with a bow, and took a seat.

"How are things at Vigil's Keep?" the King asked casually.

"Oh, very well, Your Majesty," Varel said proudly. "Although we are still rebuilding since the siege of the Keep and Amaranthine, things are progressing very well indeed. The Arlessa and the Wardens have worked tirelessly to secure the City and the Keep, and to ensure her subjects are well provided for."

Alistair nodded absentmindedly. "That's wonderful news, Varel," he said quietly. "Actually, speaking of the Arlessa…" he began, then hesitated for a moment. Varel knew what was coming, but he made no sign. "I was wondering if you could explain her non-attendance today? I've had a very polite letter from her, but it tells me nothing."

Varel answered quickly; he had expected to be asked this question. "All I can tell you, Your Majesty, is this," he began. "She and Warden Howe went to the Circle Tower for the purpose of recruiting. I, too, received a letter from the Arlessa, informing me that they had been detained at the Tower, but she did not give a reason," he explained. "I can only surmise that she is needed there as a mage; otherwise, she would have left Warden Howe there in her stead."

Alistair frowned a little and sat opposite Varel. "And what do _you_ think, Varel?" he probed. He knew that Varel was aware of his previous relationship with Gabby.

"What I think, Your Majesty, would not be a fact," he answered diplomatically, "and facts are clearly what you seek."

"I see," Alistair mumbled. He sighed and rose to his feet, as did Varel. "Well, I won't keep you, Varel," he said. "Thank you for coming, and I hope that you and the Wardens enjoy yourselves today."

"You're very gracious, Your Majesty," Varel replied with a nod of his head. "And I hope that you enjoy your special day, as well."

Alistair mumbled his thanks and opened the door for him. "When you do see the Arlessa, please inform her that I intend to call on Vigil's Keep in the near future," he said to Varel. "It has been too long since my last visit."

"Of course, Your Majesty," Varel replied, with a bow. "We will be honoured to receive you."

"Until then," said Alistair, and closed the door.

~O~

After cancelling his and Gabby's reservations at the inn, Nathaniel stayed there for a few ales. He knew that booze wasn't really the answer for his sour mood, but it slipped down easily, nonetheless. He shook his head softly and despaired at how gullible Gabby could be. Nathaniel had taken a dislike to Cullen at their very first meeting, and the Knight-Commander had done nothing to change his mind since then. He thought back to how terrified Gabby had been last night, and felt his anger rising again. As far as Nathaniel was concerned, there was no legitimate reason for Cullen to be in her room, especially at night, and the only conclusion he could arrive at was that he had intended to attack her, physically or _otherwise_ - the thought of which made him sick to his stomach.

"Warden?"

Nathaniel was snapped out of his reverie by Kester's voice. The ferryman stood at the entrance to the inn, trying to attract his attention. "I need to return to the Tower," Kester informed him. "They're signalling me. I can take you back now, or when I return with whoever wants to come across."

Nathaniel drained his tankard and stood up. "I'll come back now," he replied, knowing he would get horribly drunk if he stayed any longer. He threw a few silvers onto the bar and stepped outside, the cool air sending him giddy for a moment.

"Feel better now, Ser?" Kester asked brightly. Nathaniel mumbled something in reply. "I'd have raised a toast myself, were I not on duty," Kester continued.

"A toast?" Nathaniel asked, perplexed.

"Well, to the King and our new Queen, of course, Ser!" Kester said proudly. "They wed today, after all."

Nathaniel's head fell back against his shoulders and he groaned. _It's today! _he realised. _Well, all Gabby needed was me storming out in a strop, wasn't it? _He clambered into the boat and felt his stomach twist with guilt as they got underway.

~O~

Dagna called on Gabby before lessons were over, and brought Wren with her. The little girl immediately ran over to Gabby's window, and stared out of it sulkily. "Problems?" asked Gabby. Dagna gestured for Gabby to step outside.

"What's wrong?" Gabby asked as soon as the door was closed.

"Just a little, er…setback!" Dagna said with a grimace. "One of the boys made fun of the way she speaks, and Wren, well…she hexed him."

Gabby's mouth fell open. "Is he alright?" she asked in alarm.

Dagna grimaced again. "He had a seizure," she replied, "but he's fine, now. One of the healers put him right."

"What about the Templars?" Gabby asked. "Didn't they step in?"

"Oh, sure," Dagna replied. "One of them nullified the spell as soon as she'd cast it, but, not being a healer, he wasn't able to stop the effects. He only prevented it from doing more damage."

"I'm sorry, Dagna," Gabby said quietly.

"Oh, don't worry about it!" Dagna chirped, playfully punching Gabby's arm. "It's not as if you're her mentor, anyway. And we get little squabbles breaking out all the time," she added. "Just squabbles with _magic_, that's all. Injuries are commonplace."

Gabby frowned. "I wonder who _is _going to be her mentor?" she wondered out loud. "Someone should really have been put in place by now. I'll speak to the First Enchanter later on," she informed Dagna. "Who is First Enchanter, now?"

"Er, about that…" Dagna said hesitantly, "there _is _no First Enchanter anymore."

"What?" Gabby exclaimed. "What do you mean? Didn't they replace Irving?"

Dagna shook her head. "Knight-Commander Cullen petitioned the Grand Cleric after the revolt, and wanted the Templars to be in complete control after what happened. The Grand Cleric agreed, and therefore no replacement for Irving will be appointed."

"But-but the mages _need _a First Enchanter!" Gabby cried in dismay. "They need someone to confide in, to turn to!" She thought for a moment. "So that's why Wren hasn't been assigned a mentor, yet," she realised. "The First Enchanter would normally see to that, too."

"Well, unless you can persuade the Knight-Commander to change his mind, I can't see one being appointed in the near future," Dagna said quietly.

"You know something, Dagna," Gabby said with a smile. "I like a challenge. I might just try that."

"Huh!" Dagna exclaimed in surprise. "Well, best of luck to you! Although, I should warn you – he's not a nice man. I tend to keep out of his way."

"Well, he can only say 'no', can't he?" Gabby answered, deep in thought. "Thanks for what you've done, Dagna," she said gratefully. "And thanks for bringing her back."

"Oh, no problem at all!" Dagna replied cheerfully. "I have to get back to lessons, now. See you later!"

"'Bye!" Gabby called as Dagna walked away, and, spotting Ser Richardson walking up the corridor toward her, waited outside her room to greet him.

"Good afternoon, Gabby," he said politely with a bow.

"Good afternoon to you, Luke," she said in reply.

"I've been assigned to you and the girl for the duration of your stay," Luke informed her, "and another Templar will be assigned at night," he explained. "The Knight-Commander thought it prudent after what has just occurred."

"Alright," Gabby said with a shrug. "I can understand that." She opened the door and invited him in. "You may as well take the weight off your feet for a bit," she offered, "instead of standing in a draughty corridor for hours on end."

"You're too kind," Luke replied gratefully.

"Actually, you can help me," Gabby whispered. "I'm going to have a talk with her about the dangers of magic. I know she's young, but I think she's intelligent enough to understand."

"Yes, I agree," Luke replied as they entered the room. "I would be happy to assist."

"Wren?" Gabby called as they entered the room, "this is Luke, a friend of mine."

Wren looked around and immediately fixed Luke with a cold glare. "She's not speaking to me at the moment," he whispered. "I was the one who negated her spell."

"Ah," Gabby replied with a knowing look. She gestured for Luke to take a seat, then joined Wren by the window, and sat on the ledge. "Wren," she began, "now, you're not in trouble," she reassured the little girl. "I just want us to talk about what happened in the library. Is that alright?"

Wren shrugged her shoulders and stared at the floor. Gabby lifted her up onto her lap. "Now, I know that what that boy said was very naughty," she said softly, "but you mustn't use spells on people to punish them," she added. "That boy was quite poorly afterwards, and I'm sure you never meant for that to happen."

Wren burst into tears. "Actually," said Luke, "I think that was what upset her the most."

Gabby nodded slowly, hoping the fact that Wren had seen the consequences of her actions would serve as a lesson to her. "He's fine now, though," Gabby reassured her. "Do you understand why Luke stopped your spell when he did?"

Wren nodded shakily and hiccuped. Gabby smoothed away her tears and planted a soft kiss on her forehead, immediately realising that she had come to care for the little girl; something she had hoped would not happen.

"Wren," Luke ventured, "there was another reason I stopped your spell." Wren looked over at the Templar. "There are some very bad people around, Wren," he continued, "who are jealous of your powers, and of Gabby's." He gave the girl a moment to absorb that, then continued. "They're called demons, Wren," he said after a moment. "We can't see them, but they can see us. When they see people casting spells, they want that power for themselves, and may try to hurt you if you're not careful."

"That is why Luke stopped your magic," Gabby explained. "Do you understand, so far?" Wren nodded quickly.

"If you use your spells when you're angry, Wren," Luke added, "it makes the demons take notice of you. We don't want anybody to hurt you, Wren," he said gently, "so the next time someone makes you angry, give him or her a wallop, instead!" he joked, punching his palm for effect.

Gabby and Wren started to laugh. "Not _too _hard, though!" Gabby warned gently.

"A'right, 'abby," Wren agreed, wrapping her arms around Gabby's waist. Gabby smiled, but felt anxious at the thought of eventually having to leave Wren, and of the possible consequences when she did. Sadly, she realised she would have to gently distance herself from the child somehow.

"I need to speak to Cullen," Gabby said to Luke. "Was he in his office when he sent you?" she asked.

"He's very rarely out of it," Luke answered with a nod. "I need to accompany you, I'm afraid, if you're taking Wren along."

"That's fine," she replied. "Wren, do you fancy a walk?" she offered, taking the girl's hand. Wren nodded, and the three of them exited the room.

"There was something I wanted to speak to you about," Luke said as they walked along. "Nathaniel had a talk with us yesterday, and said we had until the time of your departure to decide what we wanted to do." Gabby nodded in understanding. "Well," he continued, "we've all had a talk of our own, and we all want to attempt the Joining. We would very much like to become Grey Wardens."

"Oh, that's wonderful," Gabby replied half-heartedly. Her feelings often conflicted with her duty as Warden-Commander, and although she was delighted that the four Templars had resolved to take the Joining, it was the very thought of their Joining that filled her with dread.

"I am concerned about Conn, however," Luke added.

"Concerned? Why?" she asked.

Luke frowned. "Although we have all promised to stay together, I feel that Conn has doubts about the Joining," he said, "and I remember Nathaniel's grave warning of there being consequences, should we change our minds once we have committed to it."

Gabby's face fell and she stared ahead. She had never had to kill anyone at a Joining before, and prayed she would never have to do so; she still remembered with horror Ser Jory's death at her own Joining, and recalled wondering how Duncan must have felt about it. "I'll talk to him later," she said quietly, an idea forming in her mind.

They reached the main foyer, and Luke and Wren remained there as Gabby knocked on Cullen's door. "Come in!" he called.

Ser Smyth was in the office with Cullen, and the two Templars rose to their feet as she entered. "Oh, I'm sorry," she said. "I can come back later, if you're busy."

"Not at all," Smyth said, pulling a chair out for her.

Her eyes met Cullen's for a moment; he held her gaze then cleared his throat. "Please, sit down," he offered.

"Thank you," she replied, taking a seat. The two Templars sat down. "I won't keep you for long," she promised. "I was just wondering, has a mentor been assigned to Wren yet?"

The two men exchanged a glance. "I'll take that as a 'no', then," she said. "Don't you think this is something that should be arranged, and quickly?"

Cullen leaned forward and clasped his hands together. "The thing is, Ga…Warden-Commander," he corrected himself in front of Smyth. "There are no mages in the Tower who are versed in the same school of magic as the child," he said apologetically. "It is a pity that you cannot remain here for longer," he added, with a hopeful note in his voice.

"That's just not possible," she replied, shaking her head. "Surely anyone will be better than no one, regardless of their school of magic? Is she just going to be left to fend for herself, once I'm gone?"

"No, of course not," Smyth replied. "We do have a couple of people in mind, although she will need a fellow entropic mage at some point in the near future. We're quite stumped, I'm afraid," he admitted.

Gabby thought for a moment. "I…_could _help you out, there," she said tentatively, then fell silent, a grimace crossing her face. "I don't know, though," she added doubtfully.

"What do you have in mind?" asked Cullen, looking directly at her. Smyth watched their exchange, and was secretly delighted to see the two of them speaking again, and at how relaxed Cullen appeared to be in her presence.

"Well…" she began, "I have several Warden mages at Vigil's Keep," she said carefully, "two of whom are well versed in entropic magic, and one is a female. She would be perfect, if I could get her to agree, that is…"

"Are you suggesting you loan us one of your mages?" Cullen replied.

"I could loan you a few, if they would agree to do it," she said thoughtfully. "After all, you will be taking in more Magi children over the coming months, I am sure."

"What's the catch, Gabby?" Smyth asked with a smile, perceiving her hesitancy.

"Erm, well, they all come from outside of Ferelden, you see," she explained.

"You mean apostates, don't you?" Cullen asked sharply.

"No, Cullen, I mean Wardens," she said firmly. "A person's past is buried once they join the Order. Knight-Commander Greagoir considered _me _to be an apostate, once I'd left the Tower," she reminded him, "and the infamous Anders came here only a few months ago, did he not, to deliver a lecture on the Architect? But he came here as a Warden, not as a seven-time escapee," she added with a cheeky grin. "There are many interpretations of the word 'apostate,' Cullen," she said with a bright smile.

Cullen fidgeted in his seat, and, although he did not return her smile, his face flushed pink. "Erm," he mumbled, "Tristan and I will have to discuss this," he said.

She nodded. "Of course," she replied, rising to her feet; the two Templars followed suit. "Let me know what you decide," she added, and hesitated for a moment, wondering if she should ask about the lack of a First Enchanter at the Tower. _No, _she thought. _One thing at a time._

~O~

As she left Cullen's office, Nathaniel was just entering through the main door, having returned from the inn. He looked at her pointedly, but remembered himself and held his tongue. The two of them laughed as Wren toddled up to them, wearing Ser Richardson's helm. "Greetings, Ser Wren," said Nathaniel, imitating a Templar's bow.

"Na'niel!" came a muffled voice from beneath the helm. Nathaniel removed it from her head and winked at her, handing the helm back to Luke. "Can we talk, Gabby?" he asked quietly.

"Later," she replied crisply, not meeting his eyes. "I need to find Conn."

"He was in the training yard when I left," Nathaniel advised her. "Practising with my bow."

"Excellent," she replied. "Come on then, Wren," she said, taking the child's hand.

"Na'niel!" Wren cried as they walked away.

"Perhaps I could take Wren, while you speak to Conn?" Nathaniel offered.

"Alright," Gabby replied.

Nathaniel took Wren's hand and led her away, with Ser Richardson following close behind. "Where would you like to go, Wren?" he asked.

"Ga'den!" she shouted excitedly.

"Very well," Nathaniel agreed with a chuckle. "The garden it is."

~O~

Gabby found Conn practising his archery in the training yard, and hailed him as she approached. He turned to face her, and cursed to himself as he felt his cheeks flush. "Good evening, Gabby," he said with a shy grin. "I haven't seen you for a while."

Gabby grinned back; she could tell that Conn was sweet on her. "I wanted to talk to you, Conn," she began, "about the Joining."

Conn's face fell. "Oh," he mumbled.

"I have a feeling you're anxious about it," she said. "The thing is, Conn, the other three recruits were volunteers, and you were conscripted."

"It's alright," he replied. "I understand why you did it, and I'm grateful. It's just that, after what Nathaniel said…I…"

Gabby could tell that Conn was genuinely frightened, and the thought of Duncan's sword skewering Ser Jory came sharply into her mind. "There is another alternative, Conn," she said quietly.

"What's that?" Conn asked, his face brightening a little.

"Well, how would you like to join my Order of Knights?" she offered.

"You-you have an Order of Knights?" he asked in awe.

"Well," she laughed, "they _will _be an Order once their numbers reach more than a few dozen. They are special guards of Vigil's Keep. Some of them are stationed there, and a few others in Amaranthine. I'm trying to build their numbers at the moment."

Conn thought for a moment. "So…I wouldn't have to take the Joining?" he asked.

"That's right," Gabby confirmed, "although, you wouldn't be a Grey Warden, either. The Silver Order, as it is called, is crying out for talented archers, and Nathaniel told me you're a natural," she said with a smile. "And you seem to enjoy it," she added, with a glimpse at Nathaniel's bow.

"I do," he grinned. "I, er…I think I'd like that," he said, his relief obvious.

"Good!" Gabby exclaimed.

"Why are they called The Silver Order?" he asked.

"Because they wear Silverite armour," she replied, and lowered her voice to a whisper. "Which means you wouldn't have to wear a skirt anymore."

Conn laughed. "Well, that's clinched it for me, then!" he exclaimed happily.

"Just one thing, Conn," she said quietly. "Keep this to yourself until we get to Vigil's Keep. I did conscript you, after all, and Knight-Commander Cullen and I had strong words over that," she warned. "It's probably best he doesn't find out about our change of plans."

"You have my word," Conn said solemnly.

~O~

Gabby noticed that the sun would be setting soon; it was nearing Wren's bedtime, something she had been dreading all day. She had a feeling that Wren would expect to sleep with her, and although Gabby had dropped several hints to the contrary during the day, Wren had decided to ignore them. Gabby was afraid that Wren would see her as a replacement mother figure, and worried over how that would affect Wren once she and Nathaniel departed.

She found the two of them in the gardens, sitting on the grass. Nathaniel looked up as Gabby approached, a world-weary look in his eyes. Gabby burst out laughing at the sight of the daisy chain around his neck, and the flower tucked behind his ear. "Help me," he whispered forlornly.

"I think Nathaniel needs a matching flower, on the other side," Gabby whispered to Wren, who giggled and ran over to the flower bed, plucking another flower.

"Don't you dare!" Nathaniel warned as Wren approached him, wielding the bloom with menacing intent.

Gabby removed her staff from her back and pointed it toward Nathaniel. "Just to warn you," she called to a nearby Templar, "I intend to paralyse this man if he refuses to play with my little friend here." The Templar snorted to himself and watched as poor Nathaniel was forced to wear another flower behind his opposite ear.

"I'll get you back for this," Nathaniel hissed under his breath, "if it's the last thing I do!"

"You look quite enchanting, Nathaniel," Gabby teased. "The flowers set off your colouring beautifully."

Nathaniel got to his feet and feigned a sneeze, sending the flowers flying through the air. "You still go' wear that," Wren said triumphantly, pointing to the daisy chain, which remained intact.

Nathaniel groaned in defeat. "Bloody women," he muttered. "Gabby," he ventured. "I was hoping to speak to you."

"I have to take Wren to B.E.D.," she said quietly.

"Ah," Nathaniel said sympathetically. "Do you want me to come with you?" he offered.

"No," Gabby replied. "It would be better for her to have as few friends there as possible," she said with a sigh. "I'm going to have to leave her on her own."

"Well, why not just have her in with you for tonight?" Nathaniel suggested. "It is her first night here, after all."

Gabby shook her head. "I can't," she replied, tears forming in her eyes. "It will just make it harder for her in the long run, and I don't want her becoming too attached to me."

Nathaniel nodded sadly; it was obvious to him that Gabby had, in fact, become attached to Wren. "Alright," he said softly. "I'll be in my quarters. Good luck. Goodnight, Wren," he said as he walked away.

"Ni' ni', Na'niel!" she shouted in reply, frantically waving her hand.

"Come on, Wren," Gabby said, taking the little girl's hand. As they made their way to the apprentices' quarters, Gabby realised that she felt more nervous at the thought of leaving Wren alone than she had before her Harrowing or her Joining; at least they had offered the chance of death as an escape. Gabby would at that moment have gladly faced death again rather than disappoint or upset the little bundle of power and sweetness who skipped alongside her, clutching her flowers.

They entered Wren's dormitory; two older, female apprentices waited there, as previously arranged by Gabby. "Wren," she said softly, "these are my friends, Sybil and Jane." The two apprentices greeted Wren and cooed over her. "They will be looking after you tonight," she said nervously. Wren's lips started to quiver and she looked up at Gabby with huge, mournful eyes.

"Come on, my sweet," Sybil said cheerfully, taking Wren's hand. Wren immediately snatched it away and ran behind Gabby.

"Look, Wren," Gabby said with a hitch in her voice. "You have your own bed, just like a grown up!"

"I wan' 'abby bed!" Wren whimpered plaintively then started to bawl, throwing herself to the floor and thrashing her limbs.

"It's best you go now," Jane said to Gabby. "We're used to this with new ones. She'll tire herself out in a bit, don't worry."

"Thank you," Gabby replied. "You know where my quarters are, don't you?" Jane nodded. "Just knock on my door if you need me," Gabby offered.

"Go on," Jane whispered, "before she realises you're still here."

Gabby quickly exited the dorm, with the sound of Wren's sobs ringing in her ears. She hurriedly made her way to her quarters and closed the door behind her, leaning against it as she took a few deep breaths. A knock sounded on it before she could sit down.

It was Nathaniel. "How did it go?" he asked. She stood in the doorway and did not invite him in.

"As well as I thought it would," she said glumly.

"Oh," Nathaniel mumbled. "I'm sorry."

The two of them stood there for a moment without speaking. "I think I'm going to have an early night," she declared.

"Alright," he replied. "Are…you alright, Gabby?" he asked. "With today, and what's happening…"

"With what's happening?" she asked, confused.

Nathaniel's face fell. "You mean…today is the King's wedding, Gabby," he reminded her softly.

The colour drained from Gabby's face. "It's today?" she murmured. "Yes, of course."

"Oh, Gabby, I'm sorry," he said earnestly. "I thought…"

Gabby nodded quickly. "Of course it's today," she said flatly. "Well, I'll see you in the morning," she said and began to close the door.

"You know where I am, Gabby," he said.

"Goodnight," she said quietly and closed the door. Nathaniel walked back to his room, feeling like a piece of shit.

Gabby locked her door and sank into a chair. All that had happened over the last few days finally caught up on her. Utterly drained and confused by her feelings, she let her tears flow freely, with the sound of Wren's anguished cries in her ears, and the image of Alistair making love to his new Queen in her mind.


	14. So close, and yet so far

**My heartfelt thanks to jen4306, Nithu, Shakespira, CCBug, Gene Dark, EvilValenStrife, voltagelisa, tgail73, Benineko and ilmiopassato for sticking with the story, and for your comments and suggestions. :)**

**Special thanks again to Jen for a first-class editing job! Thanks for making the long paragraphs readable when I start rambling, for the mini-betas, and for being my 'incomprehensible British slang' monitor ;)**

**~O~**

Although Gabby retired early, and was clearly exhausted, sleep eluded her. She thought of Alistair, his new Queen and his new life without her. Though she knew the day would come when he would be forced to marry, she thought she had prepared herself for it; as Eamon had introduced Alistair to countless noblewomen, she'd convinced herself that he would dismiss them all, would come to his senses and defy Eamon. She'd convinced herself that, in the end, he would marry her.

Alistair didn't dismiss all of Eamon's choices, however; he was eventually introduced to Elissa Cousland, who had not been at Highever when Rendon Howe's men laid siege to her home. She had heard it was Alistair who eventually struck the killing blow against Howe, and thanked him for bringing justice to her parents' murderer. Alistair had been touched by her loss, and a bond of friendship was formed between them.

When the engagement was announced, Alistair told Gabby that if he _had_ to marry someone, he would prefer it to be someone he liked, and he liked Elissa. Even then, he still professed his love for Gabby, who convinced herself, despite a growing feeling of unease, that he would change his mind. One night, whilst staying at Denerim Palace, she had ended up sharing Alistair's bed, and it was like old times again; just as it had been during the Blight. On subsequent trips to Denerim, it happened a second, and third time.

Shortly after her third stay at the Palace, a letter arrived at Vigil's Keep, inviting Gabby and the Wardens to the King's wedding. She'd had no prior warning that a date had been set, and was certain that Eamon had rushed things along after catching her leaving Alistair's bedchamber during her stay. She was being forced out. Anders had been with her when she'd opened the letter, witnessed her distress, and Nathaniel and Varel had to physically restrain him from riding to Denerim and committing regicide. Nathaniel had said something along the lines of, "his punishment will be the life he has chosen for himself." Since that day, Nathaniel and Anders – who she called her brothers – had been very protective of her.

She thought that she'd been so angered and hurt by Alistair that she couldn't possibly still have feelings for him; but as she lay in her bed, alone in the dark with only her thoughts for company, she realised that she did. It was not the King she loved, however; it was Alistair, the Grey Warden. She had been his first love, and their first night together had been a revelation to her; his innocence and gentleness had instantly captured her heart. He had been so sweet and shy; had made her laugh like no other; was a ferocious and formidable warrior, and wasn't afraid to show his feelings, or cry. A potent combination for any woman, and she mourned his loss. The King was an altogether different creature, however; controlled by Eamon and his courtiers, and too consumed with duty to realise what he had lost, and how much he had hurt her.

Then her thoughts turned to Cullen. He had been _her _first love, in her mind at least. Although nothing had ever happened between them, Cullen's reaction when she walked past him each morning always gave her hope. He, too, was sweet and shy, and made her laugh; beneath the blushing face and the stutter was a devilish sense of humour and a glint of mischief in his eye – when he could look her in the eye, that was. They became good friends and he often overlooked some of the pranks she and her apprentice friends used to pull, giving rise to the rumour that he had feelings for her.

The rumour reached Greagoir's ears, and Cullen told her that he had been warned not to be too friendly with her. Gabby asked him if he wanted her to stop 'chatting him up,' as he jokingly referred to their morning conversations. He leaned closer to her and whispered, "no, Gabby, I don't. Let's just be a little more discreet." As he stood back, and blushed as he smiled at her, she knew she'd fallen for him.

She remembered finding an envelope pushed under her door one day, and was surprised to find it contained a poem. She lay back in bed and tried to remember it:

When you walk by me every day

And toss your molten sheet of hair

I cannot look upon thee, and turn away

For fear my secret will be laid bare

o

When you walk by, my pulse doth rise

The jewel of your emerald gaze on me

I cannot look, I avert my eyes

As through them, my heart you would see

o

When you walk by, I forget myself

I soar, and for moments, I am free

I cannot look, I feel I shall die

Should you turn your gaze on me

o

When you walk by, my heart doth sing

I feel alive, and my heart is beating!

I cannot speak, as my voice may bring

A confession of love; then you are gone.

Our time together is fleeting.

o

It was a simple and amateurish poem, but it had touched her heart. A huge grin spread across her face as she recalled testing Cullen to see if he'd written it, by simply walking up to him and thanking him for it. His subsequent coughing fit and inability to speak coherently for several moments led her to believe her hypothesis was correct.

Then she'd had to leave the Tower; conscripted by Duncan after making a grave error of judgement by helping Jowan to destroy his phylactery. She'd managed to spend a few minutes alone with Cullen before she left, and had gifted him her silver chain and pendant – the one he'd always complimented her on.

Gabby sat up in bed and wiped a tear from her eye as she remembered the day Cullen broke her heart. She, Alistair and a few other of their companions had destroyed Uldred and his minions and rescued Cullen. He'd reacted harshly toward her, and said some very cruel things. He'd then torn her chain from his neck and thrown it to the ground. She hadn't realised at the time just what Cullen had been through, until her return to the Tower, whereupon Ser Smyth had confided in her.

In many ways, Alistair and Cullen were very similar – not just the fact they were both Templars, but with their self-deprecating sense of humour, their sweetness and their innocence, as well. _Was Alistair merely a replacement for Cullen? _she asked herself. _Was Cullen my true love? Who am I really grieving for?_

Realising she would never get to sleep, she climbed out of bed, threw on her night gown and started work on Wren's third robe by candlelight. She'd promised to make her a blue one – the little girl's favourite colour. She had only just begun cutting material, when a knock sounded at her door, startling her.

_Wren, _she thought.

"Just a minute," she called, standing and fastening her night gown.

"Before you open the door, Miss," a male voice spoke, "are you decent?"

"Of course I'm decent!" she exclaimed as she opened the door. A Templar she vaguely recognised stood outside her door. He stared without thinking, actually considering the low cut of her gown to be positively _in_decent. "Are you going to stand there all night gawking at my breasts, or are you going to tell me what you want?" she hissed irritably, taking care not to raise her voice for fear of waking Nathaniel.

Horror filled the Templar's eyes. "I, erm…oh, pardon me, Miss, I did not mean…" he mumbled, immediately averting his gaze. "There-there's trouble with the little girl," he said at last.

"Right," she murmured, unsurprised. "I'll be down in a minute," she said. "I'd better put some clothes on."

"Of c-course, Miss," he said with a gulp as she closed the door.

Gabby rifled through the pile of clothing at the foot of her bed. Finding nothing that was not crumpled, she shrugged her shoulders, removed her gown, slipped on a thin chemise, then put her gown back on, loosely fastening it with a belt. She rubbed her eyes and yawned several times as she meandered her way, barefoot, down to the first floor.

~O~

A scene of horror greeted Gabby as she stepped into Wren's dormitory. Several of the younger apprentices were in tears, and black scorch marks peppered the walls. The smell of smoke was overpowering. Gabby gasped as she entered; as did some of the Templars, scandalised at her shocking lack of clothing, although one or two of them, particularly the ones wearing helms, did not appear to react.

Cullen and Smyth were also there. They, too, had apparently been hastily roused from their beds, as they were not fully dressed, either. Smyth had pulled on a pair of leggings under his night shirt, and Cullen had donned some breeches, but wore nothing on top, and stood with a blanket wrapped around him. They talked quietly in a corner, and did not notice her enter.

Ignoring them for the moment, Gabby walked over to Wren, who sat on her bunk with her head resting on her hands. Gabby sat next to her. "What happened here?" she asked one of the Templars.

"Apparently some of the girls were whispering to her, calling her a peasant," the Templar replied, averting his eyes from the sight of Gabby's bare shins. "It happened so quickly," he said, shaking his head. "It seems she has Primal magic at her command, as well."

"Did she hurt anyone?" Gabby asked.

"No, but she set one of the apprentice's beds on fire," he said gravely. "Thankfully, she wasn't in it at the time, but whether the child was aware of that or not is unknown."

"Wren," Gabby said sternly. "Do you remember what Luke and I told you about not using magic in anger? You could have hurt someone!"

Wren shrugged her shoulders and pouted; Gabby sighed in exasperation and rubbed her eyes. She stood up and made her way over to Cullen and Smyth, who stood with their backs to her. She waited politely for them to finish talking.

"She is very young, Ser," Smyth said quietly, "And this is her first night here. I think we should give her another chance."

"She may hurt someone the next time, or worse," Cullen argued. "All I'm saying is, we should monitor her closely, and, if anything like this happens again, we will need to take steps. Most new apprentices do not attempt to set people on fire."

"I know, Ser," Smyth said with a sigh. "It just seems such a shame, and a waste. She is quite talented for her age."

"A little too talented for my liking," Cullen countered. "We don't need Magi like that running amok in the Tower, not after…" he took a deep breath and paused. "I think we need to make preparations, just to be safe," he said gravely.

"I hope the two of you are not discussing what I think you're discussing!" Gabby exclaimed hotly from behind them.

The two men turned around in surprise; Cullen's mouth fell open for a moment at the sight of Gabby in a chemise and robe. He gulped and closed his mouth. "We, er…were just discussing possible solutions to this problem," he mumbled, looking at the floor.

"_Problem_?" she snapped. "This is a little girl we're talking about!" Several of the Templars glanced in her direction. Cullen gestured for her to step outside.

They walked out into the corridor. "Look," he said firmly. "I know you care about her, but I have to consider the safety of the people who live here," he explained.

"She's just been torn from her family!" Gabby protested. "She's been thrust into a confusing new world where every second person treats her like a churl!"

"I know," Cullen said, holding his hands up.

"I don't think you do!" she exclaimed loudly. "You _chose_ to become a Templar! _We_ don't get a choice! I remember my first night at the Tower, wondering where my parents were and why they didn't love me anymore! It was the loneliest and most terrifying experience of my life! So don't tell me you understand, Cullen!"

"Is everything alright, Ser?" one of the Templars stationed near the entrance asked, popping his head around the door.

"Yes, quite alright, thank you," Cullen replied curtly. The Templar nodded and closed the door. "Come on," he said to Gabby, heading toward his office.

The office was in darkness when Cullen entered. Gabby stood in the doorway as he fumbled around for some tinder and flint in his desk. "Allow me," said Gabby, lighting two torches on the walls with her hands.

Cullen sighed. "Thank you," he mumbled as he sat in his chair, and gestured for Gabby to sit opposite his desk. She took a seat and they sat in awkward silence for a moment. "Actually, I wasn't given the choice of being a Templar," he said after a while. "I came from a peasant family much the same as the girl's," he said quietly. "My father died when I was young, and my mother was left destitute. From what I can gather, she turned to…" he paused and took a deep breath. "She, erm, made a meagre living…entertaining men."

"Oh, Cullen, I'm so sorry," Gabby said sadly. "I-I shouldn't have just assumed…"

Cullen shrugged his shoulders with feigned nonchalance. "She still couldn't support us all, though," he said quietly. "There were five of us. She took three of us to the local Chantry. I was one of them. Boys who are taken in by the Chantry usually end up as Chanters or Templars, and girls, lay sisters." He sighed and rested his head on his hand. "I was trained as a Templar from the age of eight. It's all I've ever known," he added.

"Cullen, I…" Gabby began, reaching with her hand across the desk.

Cullen sat further back in his chair. "I'm not telling you this because I want sympathy," he said. "I'm telling you so you understand; some of the Templars in this Tower were not given a choice, either." Gabby nodded. "Look," he said, leaning forward a little. "I know you don't agree with me, concerning the girl," he began, "but I have to consider the safety of everyone under this roof. We have to have a contingency, should things go wrong," he explained.

"But you are talking about making a four-year old girl tranquil, aren't you?" she said grimly, folding her arms.

Cullen stared at his desk. "That is one of many possible outcomes," he blurted out, feeling his heart race. "And one that I will only consider as a last resort."

"She needs a mentor, Cullen," Gabby said firmly. "That is even more apparent, now."

Cullen shrugged and held his palms up. "There just isn't anyone suitable at the present time," he mumbled.

"That's not good enough!" she cried, rising to her feet; Cullen did the same, holding his blanket in place. "You say you care about everyone under this roof, but it seems to me the mages are second-class citizens here!"

"That's not fair, Gabby!" he protested, even though he knew she spoke the truth.

"Really?" she asked angrily. "Why, then, is there no First Enchanter? Why have you made efforts to recruit other Templars from around Ferelden, but no other mages? This is not the only Circle Tower in Thedas, you know!"

Realising she was right, Cullen had no answer. He sat on the edge of his desk and sighed. "Well?" Gabby asked impatiently.

"What do you want from me, Gabby?" he snapped suddenly, standing upright and facing her. "I'm doing the best I can! I've had to rebuild this Tower with the five Templars and seven Magi who survived what Uldred did!"

"What I want," she said, "is for you to make things better for the mages here! You can't just take a little girl away from her family, dump her onto a visitor, then plan to make her tranquil when she cries out for attention! You should have had more mages, and a First Enchanter in place! Even Greagoir knew the importance of a First Enchanter, Cullen! I expected better from you!"

"Don't mention Greagoir to me!" Cullen spat furiously, turning away from her for a moment. "It's because of him I was forced into this position in the first place!" he yelled, turning to face her again. "Do you know what he did? Do you?" Gabby shook her head as she looked up at him.

"He ran off with one of the mages, that's what!" Cullen shouted. "After all of his warnings to me to keep my eyes off _you_, he goes and does that!"

"He _what_?" she exclaimed in disbelief. "Who with?"

"Maddie!" Cullen growled. "The one who always hung around his office. The one who never seemed to be around when Greagoir was off duty. Greagoir was _so _devout, _so _dedicated, or so we believed. We never saw that one coming, I can tell you!"

"I can't believe it…" Gabby mumbled. "Not Greagoir!"

"Oh, yes," Cullen said bitterly. "And as the most senior Templar left alive, I got stuck with his blasted job! I never asked for this!" He paused for a moment, aware that he was shouting, and took a deep breath. "You know, the only one of them I trust is Smyth," he said, shaking his head. "The rest of them are capable of anything, mages and Templars alike."

"_I'm_ a mage, Cullen," Gabby reminded him. "You used to trust me. Has that changed?"

He thought for a moment. "You're-you're different," he said quietly.

"How?" she asked.

He sighed and covered his face with his hands; as he did so, his blanket slipped to the floor.

Gabby stepped back in horror. "What in Andraste's name…"

"What?" Cullen asked, then realised she was staring at his scarred forearms. He hastily gathered his blanket from the floor, exposing his bare back, and wrapped it around himself. "It's alright, Gabby," he began, then realised she was crying.

"Your back!" she gasped. "What happened to your back?"

"It-it was an…injury," he explained, his gut lurching at the sight of her in tears. He realised what a dangerous situation he was in. They were alone, and half-dressed, in his office; and the urge to touch her was so potent in him it threatened to consume him. He started to breathe heavily as his eyes wandered to her décolletage of their own volition.

_I want to touch you._

"Gabby, please don't cry," he pleaded; he wanted her to start shouting at him again, or for someone to knock on the door, but no such help was forthcoming.

Gabby stepped forward and raised a trembling hand toward his face; he instinctively stepped away from her, walking backward into his desk. He could have moved aside, but he didn't _want _to move, although he knew he should try. He closed his eyes as her hands touched his face. "What happened to you?" she sobbed.

"T-they're just old injuries," he whispered. Gabby wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her face against his neck; he hissed and inhaled sharply, then wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer. He lay his head atop hers, and whispered to her, "it's alright, Gabby."

Gabby gently ran her hands up and down his back. "We really should get back to the others," he blurted out, extricating himself from her arms, and walking over to the door. "We'll continue our discussion tomorrow," he said breathlessly. "You are correct in saying that the child needs a mentor. Perhaps I will take you up on your offer to 'borrow' one of your Wardens…" he paused and backed against the wall as Gabby walked toward him.

"Cullen," she whispered softly, "what did he do to you?"

He gulped as she took his hands in her own. "Please," he implored, "we really should go."

"You asked me in here, Cullen," she reminded him gently. "What did you expect me to do? You must know how I feel about you."

He stood with his mouth hanging open; unable to move, held in place by a tiny elven woman. "I…I had no idea," he mumbled.

"Of course you did," she replied, moving closer. "That's why you brought me here, on my own. You hoped that something would happen, didn't you? But you're also afraid of that very thing."

"Gabby," he said with a pained expression. "I can never give you what you want. You know that. And I…I'm not the same person anymore," he admitted. "I have so much anger inside me, Gabby. Sometimes I struggle to contain it."

"But that's not your fault," she protested.

"Of course it's my fault!" he retorted. "I was weak! I let Uldred get inside my head! If you had any idea of the things I did, Gabby…" he placed his hand over his mouth and squeezed his eyes shut. "I've done some terrible things," he said shakily, moving his hands to cover his face. "Go," he said with a broken voice. "I don't want you to see me…"

"It's too late," she whispered, removing his hands from his face. "I've already seen."

"Gabby," he said as firmly as he could, as a tear rolled down his cheek. "Don't waste your time on me. I-I'm not capable of returning your feelings…not any more. Too much has happened."

"I don't accept that," she said gently, wrapping her arms around his waist again. "I believe in you, even if you don't believe in yourself."

They stood together in silence; Cullen knew that this would be the closest he could ever get to her without making a mockery of his vows. He closed his eyes and lost himself in her embrace for a moment. "We really must go back, Gabby," he said eventually with a colossal effort.

She planted a soft kiss on his chest and drew back from him. "I know," she said sadly. "We'll talk in the morning, yes?"

Cullen nodded. "I will think of something for the child, I swear to you," he said softly, looking directly into her eyes. Gabby returned his gaze and held it for a moment; something unspoken passed between them. "Gabby, I…" he began, then faltered.

"Yes?" she said expectantly.

He cast his eyes down to the floor. "Let's go back," he said gently, reaching over and opening the door for her.

~O~

Gabby reluctantly decided that to prevent any further incidents from occurring that night, Wren could sleep in her bed. Cullen and Ser Willoughby - who was to be posted outside Gabby's room - escorted them back upstairs; Ser Smyth remained downstairs for a while, helping to reorganise the dorm. On their way up, Gabby and the Templars tried to speak to Wren and make her see why her actions had been wrong; by the time they reached Gabby's room, Wren was bawling.

Nathaniel's bedroom door opened, and he stepped out, having thrown on some clothes. "Na'niel!" Wren cried, running toward him. Nathaniel picked her up and walked toward Gabby and Cullen, casting them a severe look due to their state of undress.

"What's going on here?" he asked suspiciously.

"Wren became upset and, well…cast some spells," Gabby said wearily.

"Was anyone hurt?" Nathaniel asked.

"Thankfully, no," she replied with a yawn. "I'm going to have Wren in my room tonight, as you originally suggested," she said wryly with a shrug. "Should have listened to you in the first place, shouldn't I?"

Nathaniel snorted softly and put Wren down.

"Well, goodnight," she said to Cullen. "We'll speak in the morning."

"Yes," he replied. "Come and see me as soon as you're free. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Nathaniel," she said, as she opened her bedroom door and ushered Wren inside.

"Goodnight," he replied as she closed the door, not taking his eyes off Cullen. "I'm watching you," he said frostily as Cullen walked past him.

"So I see," Cullen replied flatly and continued up to the fourth floor. Ser Willoughby cleared his throat, and bade Nathaniel goodnight as he took up his post.

~O~

Upon entering his quarters, Cullen undressed and climbed into bed, propping himself up on an elbow, thinking about what Gabby had said to him. She had seen him at his worst when she first arrived at the Tower; he had been terribly rude to her, with no provocation. She had seen him lose control of himself, when he cried; she had seen his disfigured body. She _knew _of his sin – of what he had done with the demon - and still she accepted him. She _believed _in him.

His belly tightened and twitched as he remembered the touch of her hands on his face and body; her soft voice, her warm breath against his neck. He had thought of nothing else since they had parted outside her room, and now, at last, he was alone with his thoughts. He lay back, closed his eyes, and ran his hands up and down his bare chest; his body shuddered and he moaned softly as he imagined they were _her _hands. He moved one hand upward and softly stroked his face; it was not his hand that stroked him, but _hers_. He parted his lips slightly and could almost feel her hovering above him, brushing her lips against his.

He turned over onto his belly and grabbed a pillow, wrapping his arms around it; it instantly became her in his arms. He felt imaginary hands running down his back and heard imaginary whisperings in his ear. He moved one hand inside his smallclothes and made love to Gabby in his mind, for the first time unimpeded by thoughts of demons, or Uldred, or sin or shame. There was only her. She was there with him; he could hear her breathing and her soft moans against his ear. He could smell her; he could taste her. He grasped himself tighter and increased the pace of his strokes; the pillow bunched into his hand and sweat ran down his back as he thrust into his hand.

"Gabby…" he whispered as he started to pant. A bead of sweat fell from his forehead onto the pillow. His breath hitched and he buried his face in the pillow to muffle his cries as he came.

"Oh, Gabby," he mumbled into the pillow as he slumped onto his stomach, gasping for breath. Not caring that he was lying in his own ejaculate, he drifted off into a blissful sleep. He did not ask the Maker for forgiveness, and his sleep was blessedly uninterrupted by nightmares.

~O~

Gabby tucked Wren into bed, and climbed in on the opposite side. Her mind continued to race with thoughts of what the morning would bring. She knew she would have to be firm with Cullen, and with Wren; a fine balancing act would be required.

Her thoughts turned to home, as well; she and Nathaniel could not stay at the Tower indefinitely, but neither could she leave until the issue with Wren was resolved. _I'll persuade him to take one of my Wardens to mentor Wren, _she thought. _Then I'll also have a reason to stay in touch with him._

As she finally surrendered herself to the Fade, only one person was on her mind, and it wasn't Alistair.


	15. The beginning of the end

**Happy Thanksgiving to those of you across the pond! This is a relatively angst-free, but necessary chapter, and should be easy for any turkey-addled readers to digest! ;)**

**My sincere thanks, as always, to everyone who has taken the time to review, alert or favourite.**

**A huge thanks to Jen for being kind enough to beta this chapter on Thanksgiving morning! Have a great time at your dad's! :-***

**~O~**

Gabby awoke the following morning, unsure of the exact time, though she knew it had to be very early. A faint pink glow lazily insinuated itself through the windows and onto the western wall, heralding the imminent sunrise. She turned to her left; Wren was fast asleep. Gabby reluctantly hauled herself out of bed, knowing she would be unable to get back to sleep, and pulled one of her chairs over to the window, taking a seat to watch the sun come up. There was something wondrous about the sunrise over Lake Calenhad, and she had often watched it during her time as an apprentice.

Wren stirred and moaned to herself; Gabby glanced over and studied the girl closely, realising she did not feel quite as motherly toward her as she had the night before. Even Wren's button nose and soft red lips did not appear as sweet and cute in the dawn's cold light. Although Gabby had fiercely defended the girl last night, she now felt a vague sense of irritation toward her.

She remembered Cullen's words from the previous evening: '_We do not need Magi like that running amok in the Tower,' _and realised that, to him, having someone like Wren in the Tower was the first step on a path leading inexorably to another Uldred. An overreaction, perhaps; but it could not be denied that Wren _was _dangerous. Gabby _had _defended her, though; that's what a mage would always do, defend their kin against the tyranny of the Templars and the Chantry.

_If only it were that simple, _Gabby reflected. The Templars were _not _tyrants; they were moderate, fallible and quite ordinary people – hardly the invulnerable angels of righteousness, sent down from the Maker to rain death and justice on the evil Magi, that some of the more jaded and cynical mages would have people believe. Ser Smyth was a paragon of reasonableness, and his heart was free of malice. The Warden recruits, to a man, were receptive, good-natured and even-handed. And Cullen? In spite of everything he had suffered at the hands of a mage, Cullen was no Greagoir, who had been a hard-hearted bastard on the best of days. Cullen's conversation with Smyth last night even began to sound reasonable to Gabby now – from a Knight-Commander's point of view, anyway.

For most mages, the Rite of Tranquillity was mentioned only in hushed tones, whispered in quiet corners, never spoken aloud. Most apprentices regarded the tranquil with unease and dread, and avoided them; perhaps in realisation that they were only one step away from becoming the very thing they so feared. Once an apprentice was harrowed, they no longer had reason to fear the tranquil, but kept away from them nonetheless.

The tranquil of the Tower had all survived Uldred's revolt; with their connection to the Fade severed, they were immune to his and his demons' influence. The surviving mages had expressed little joy at the survival of the tranquil, however; what had once been simple fear and miscomprehension of the tranquil, had festered into resentment and bitterness at the fact that these hollow facsimiles of humans and elves had endured over their living, breathing and _feeling _brothers and sisters.

Gabby knew that she could not allow Wren to be made tranquil. She also knew, however, that if Wren endangered anyone again like she had done the night before, the Templars would have no choice but to act. She glanced over at the young apprentice again and felt a pang of disappointment. She had seen herself in Wren; brought to the Tower from the Denerim Alienage at a young age, torn from the family who only came to her now in dreams or fleeting memories that faded as soon as they had begun.

She had wanted to make everything alright for Wren, and had naively believed that, in the process, she could lay her own ghosts to rest. Wren, however, was not a young Gabby, she now realised, and knew that the anger she felt toward the child was, in fact, misdirected. Gabby was angry with herself. She now saw Wren for what she really was; a sweet and ill-educated peasant girl, with neither the perspicacity nor the cognition to hold her own against her tormentors, and so, unable to punish them verbally, used the magical powers she had little knowledge of, and even less control over. Gabby castigated herself for her naivety and for her tendency to make simple things complicated; an internal discussion she had had with herself many times before, and this certainly wouldn't be the last.

She redirected her gaze toward the sun as it began to rise over Lake Calenhad, and, as she realised she was vaguely facing east, in the direction of Vigil's Keep, a keen sense of longing stabbed at her gut. She was definitely homesick, now; ironic that she felt that way in the very place she had called home for so long, but, perhaps for the first time, she realised that the Keep was where she truly belonged, and it was where her family resided. With Varel and Nathaniel as her advisors, she felt safe and buffered; everything was always so ordered and simple to them – they were her safety net. Since her return to the Tower, and with the safety net incomplete, she had felt like she was falling, sometimes rapidly and sometimes slowly, but at all times, with no clear idea of what awaited her at the bottom.

A flash of magenta caught her eye, and she craned her neck out of the window, from which she could see a small section of the Tower's gardens. Auburn hair and gleaming steel came into her line of vision, and she watched Cullen as he took his morning stroll. He paused for a moment to admire the borders. _So much for not looking at the flowers, Cullen, _Gabby thought mischievously. He moved with an almost cat-like grace, in spite of his cumbersome armour; his posture betrayed none of his usual stiffness or anxious tension. His face was free from lines and creases, and he appeared to be lost in a daydream. Gabby almost felt guilty for intruding on this private moment, but could not help but watch in delighted wonder. She suddenly felt hopeful about the coming day, and as soon as Cullen disappeared from her sight, she picked up her toiletry bag and selected a robe.

After her ablutions, and having donned her brightest coloured robe – a fancy red and gold number - she checked that Wren was still asleep and left the room. Ser Willoughby bade her good morning.

"Good morning, Meredith," she greeted him. "Oh," she mumbled, her face dropping. "Have you been standing all night? I should have brought a chair out to you! Oh, I'm so sorry!"

Meredith shook his head and laughed. "Don't worry," he answered cheerfully, "I'm used to it. Besides, had I sat down, I would have fallen asleep."

"But your feet must be killing you," she said sympathetically.

"Well," he whispered, "between you and me…" he raised his skirt a little, revealing bare feet.

Gabby laughed. "I don't blame you!" she replied. "I'm popping next door," she informed him. "Wren is fast asleep. Would you like some tea?"

He ran a hand through his floppy, ash blonde hair and grinned. "I wouldn't say no," he said enthusiastically, his blue eyes twinkling.

"Right," she replied. "Just give me a few minutes." She walked up the corridor a little, and knocked on Nathaniel's door, knowing he would be awake.

"Come in, Gabby," he called. She entered; Nathaniel had already started to make some tea. "How are you this morning?" he asked.

"Just thought I'd see how my favourite Howe is doing," she replied with a lopsided grin.

"Delilah is well, as far as I know," he replied dryly, "but you're in the wrong place. She lives in Amaranthine."

"Alright then, smarty pants," she chuckled. "How's my second favourite Howe?"

"He's not bad," he replied, returning her smile. "Did you get any sleep at all?"

"Eventually, yes," she answered as she stifled a yawn. "But we never _really_ sleep, do we?" she observed. "Not like we used to."

Nathaniel raised his eyebrows in agreement. "What exactly happened last night?" he asked as he poured the tea.

"Make another cup for Meredith," she said, and then proceeded to recount the events of the previous night. "She set an apprentice's bed on fire," Gabby said gravely, "but no one was in it," she added hastily in response to Nathaniel's horrified expression.

"So what happens now, then?" he asked seriously.

Gabby sighed and shrugged her shoulders. "Well, Cullen thinks she should be made tranquil," she began.

"Tranquil? What does that mean?" he asked.

"Well, it means that a mage's connection to the Fade is severed," she explained, "therefore removing the ability to cast spells. Unfortunately," she added, "it also means removing their ability to dream or feel emotion."

"What?" Nathaniel exclaimed. "That sounds barbaric!"

"I don't know," she said thoughtfully. "I used to think so, too. But I feel in some cases it may be justified. Some mages _do _abuse their powers – take Uldred, for example. If only he had been made tranquil before…" she fell silent.

"But Wren is not Uldred," Nathaniel protested. "She's a confused and frightened child."

"I know," she agreed, nodding her head. "That is why I'm meeting with Cullen this morning. We're going to try to work something out."

"And what if he doesn't listen to you, Gabby?" Nathaniel replied. "What if he insists on making her tranquil? Then what?"

"I don't know if he will," she said with a shrug of her shoulders. "He seems to be more reasonable, lately. We had a talk last night, and I think we've reached an understanding."

"I see," Nathaniel replied.

Gabby could hear the disapproval in his voice, and opened the door with a cup of tea in her hand. "I'll just take this out to Meredith," she said, hoping to change the subject when she returned.

Upon re-entering Nathaniel's room, however, she found that the subject was still very much up for discussion. "I want to come to the meeting with you," he declared.

"No," she replied, shaking her head. "I need you to keep an eye on Wren, have breakfast with her, or something."

"Can't the Templars keep an eye on her?" he asked, not unreasonably. "Isn't that what they're here for? And aren't we supposed to be going home soon? They'll have to manage without us eventually, you know."

"You are correct, Nathaniel," she agreed, "but I don't think you'd find this meeting very interesting. Besides," she added, with a wry grin, "you don't need to protect me from Cullen, you know. That _is _what you're trying to do, isn't it?"

"I'm coming," he stated bluntly, ignoring her comment. "I need to speak to Cullen or Smyth myself, anyway."

"Why?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"It would appear a thief is afoot in the Tower," he said with displeasure. "One of my daggers has gone missing."

"What?" she exclaimed in surprise. "Are you sure? You haven't just mislaid it, have you?"

"Me?" he snorted, "mislay a weapon? Come on, Gabby."

"No, I don't suppose you would," she murmured. "When did it go missing?" she enquired.

"Sometime yesterday evening," he replied, "but what I don't understand is, I locked the door when I went down for supper. When I returned, it was gone."

"You definitely locked the door?" she asked.

"Gabby," he said resolutely, "ever since Wren has been around I have diligently locked that door each time I leave the room. I don't want a child getting their hands on my blades."

"This is troubling," Gabby mumbled, taking a seat. "You have a key to your room, as does anyone assigned quarters. As far as I know, there is only one copy of each key. However," she added soberly, "each Templar has a master key on their chain that can open every door in the Tower."

"Are you suggesting a Templar stole into my room and took one of my daggers?" Nathaniel asked dubiously. "But for what purpose? They are already well armed."

Gabby shook her head softly and frowned. "Let's not mention this to Smyth or Cullen for the time being," she said quietly.

"Why?" he asked. "Don't you trust them?"

"No, it's not that," she replied, "but they may inadvertently alert the guilty party to the fact we're onto them, if it _is _a Templar." She thought for a moment. "Let me ask around," she suggested. "I know a few of the mages here; maybe they've heard something. And Templars _have_ lost their master keys before. It could have been one of the other mages."

Nathaniel nodded. "Alright," he agreed. "Are the mages of which you speak trustworthy, though?"

"Yes," she answered without hesitation. "If anything's going on, they'll tell me."

"Thank you," Nathaniel replied, and then folded his arms. "I'm still coming to the meeting with you, though," he insisted. "I, too, care about what happens to Wren."

~O~

After rousing Wren and assisting her to wash and dress, Gabby once again imposed upon Dagna to take charge of the child. Dagna didn't mind at all, and neither did Wren, who now considered the dwarf to be one of her friends, along with the Wardens. As they approached Cullen's office, Gabby stopped for a moment and addressed Nathaniel.

"This is not an excuse for you to stare daggers at Cullen across the desk, you know," she said firmly. "Remember, he has a point of view, as well. The Templars could have made Wren tranquil last night, but didn't. Just remember that."

Nathaniel looked carefully at Gabby and realised she was serious. "Alright, I'll behave," he pledged, before adding, "unless he gives me reason not to."

Gabby cast a final stern glance at him before knocking on Cullen's door.

"Come in," he answered.

Gabby entered first, followed by Nathaniel. Cullen rose to his feet and bade Gabby good morning. Upon spotting Howe, one of his eyebrows shot up. "Nathaniel would like to attend the meeting," Gabby informed Cullen, "as he has spent some time with Wren, and is concerned for her wellbeing, as am I."

"As are we all," Cullen replied, and then sighed. "Very well," he reluctantly agreed, gesturing for them both to sit. "Knight-Lieutenant Smyth will also be in attendance," he said. "He has gone to speak to Sybil, one of the female apprentices."

"Sybil," Gabby said to herself. "Yes, she and Jane looked after Wren last night."

"That's correct," Cullen replied. "We are going to ask Sybil to take charge of the child for now, until a mentor can be arranged for her." He sat forward and clasped his hands together. "Warden-Commander," he said, using her official title for Nathaniel's benefit, "Knight-Lieutenant Smyth and I have been considering your offer, and would like to take you up on it."

"Offer?" Nathaniel asked.

"I suggested to Knight-Commander Cullen that one of our mages may be a suitable mentor for Wren," she appraised him.

"You mean they would come and live here at the Tower?" Nathaniel asked.

"Yes," she replied. "I was thinking that Chauncey would be our best bet. What do you think?"

Nathaniel rested his chin on his fist. "Yes, she does possess the same magic as you and Wren, doesn't she?" he pondered. "And I think she would be willing, too. She's been kicking her heels at the Keep since we defeated The Mother."

"As have all of the mages," Gabby replied. "Some of them haven't really found their place at Vigil's Keep, yet. I'm going to ask all of them if they would be willing to come and tutor here."

"All of them?" Cullen asked in surprise. "How many are there?"

"Five," she answered, "but don't worry; you won't be overrun with mages," she said with a crooked grin. "Not all of them will agree."

"Well, that is very generous of you," Cullen replied, returning her smile.

"I want to make it very clear, though," Gabby warned, "that they are Grey Wardens first and foremost, and mages second. They are no longer considered to be apostates. I will stay in touch with them, and if I hear that one of your men has so much as looked at them cock-eyed, I will recall them immediately."

"Understood," Cullen answered with a nod. Nathaniel looked at Gabby approvingly.

A knock sounded at the door, and Ser Smyth entered. He greeted the Wardens, and shook Nathaniel's hand. Gabby then reiterated their plans.

"Might I add, Gabby," Nathaniel ventured, "that any mage Wardens sent here are liable to be recalled at any time, should their Warden duties demand it."

"Yes, that's right," Gabby concurred, "although it's unlikely. The darkspawn presence in Ferelden is weak and sporadic at present. Just something for you to be aware of," she said to Cullen.

The Templars nodded in understanding. "Without wishing to be impertinent," Ser Smyth said, "why are you recruiting, if the darkspawn threat is minimal?"

"That's not impertinent at all," Gabby answered. "In fact, it's a very good question. We have to keep a Warden presence in Ferelden, in the event of another Blight occurring," she explained. "Sadly, the Blight we defeated not long ago will not be the last. Therefore, we are slowly building the Warden numbers up. Furthermore," she added, "many parts of the land in and around Ferelden are tainted, now, and uninhabitable, and we have much to do in aiding the citizens of Ferelden to relocate and rebuild their lives."

"Of course," Smyth said with a nod. "Well, I have good news," he announced. "Sybil has agreed to take the child under her wing, as it were, for the time being."

"We're going to give them a private room, on the third floor, for now," Cullen added. "We don't intend to isolate her, however," he assured Gabby. "This is just until her mentor is in place, and we are sure she can control herself. Then, and only then, will she be re-integrated with the other apprentices."

"That's a very good idea," Gabby said approvingly, with a warm smile at Cullen, who took a deep breath and cleared his throat.

"Now onto the subject of how to control her until those measures are put in place," Cullen said grimly with a sigh. "We…have an idea," he ventured, "but you may not like it."

Gabby braced herself. "Go on," she said.

Cullen glanced at Smyth for a moment before speaking. "We fit her with a neutralisation collar," he said apprehensively, watching her carefully for a reaction.

Nathaniel noticed Gabby stiffen in her seat. "What's that?" he asked.

"It prevents a mage's mana from regenerating," Cullen explained. "They're normally used on captured apostates or maleficars. They're not uncomfortable or painful," he added, "but they are unsightly, and if the child were to wear one, its purpose would be obvious to everyone."

"They _are_ a temporary solution, however," Ser Smyth pointed out, "as opposed to the Rite of Tranquillity, which would be irreversible."

"I have no doubt that the child will react strongly when you depart," Cullen said to Gabby. "If she were to endanger anyone again like she did last night, I would have no choice but to perform the Rite," he said firmly. "Fitting her with a collar would remove that danger, until we are certain she is able to control herself."

Nathaniel watched Gabby as she thought carefully. "Is there no alternative?" he asked.

"Only for my men to follow her around every second of the day and night, continually draining her mana," Cullen replied, "which would be exhausting for the Templars, and would make the child weak."

"He's right," Gabby conceded. "There really is no other way. But wouldn't a collar be too big for a child?" she asked.

"We could have one made," said Ser Smyth. "I will speak to Bayard, the Tower's enchanter."

"Tell him to make a nice-looking one," Gabby said, looking up at him, "suitable for a little girl."

"I will," Ser Smyth promised with a grin.

"Well," said Gabby, "we have no time to lose. I don't want her wearing that collar for too long. To suppress a mage's mana is unnatural." She thought for a moment. "We'll depart for the Keep tomorrow morning," she decided. "We need to get Chauncey here as soon as possible."

"As you wish," Cullen replied, though his stomach lurched at her words. "And thank you for your assistance."

The Wardens rose to their feet. "I'll tell our recruits to make preparations to depart," said Nathaniel.

"And I shall speak to Bayard now," said Ser Smyth as he opened the door.

Gabby turned back toward Cullen. "I'm going to take Wren to the stockrooms and introduce her to the tranquil," she stated, "just to give her an idea…you know."

"That's a good idea," Cullen answered. "I also want you to know that this morning I will be writing to my peers throughout Thedas, with a view to potentially recruiting a First Enchanter," he declared. "It may take a while to implement, but there is simply no one here with the experience or wisdom to fulfil the role satisfactorily."

"Thank you," Gabby said sincerely, with a warm smile.

Cullen nodded, and, for a moment, the two of them were unaware of Nathaniel and Smyth exiting the office as their eyes met. Cullen eventually broke the spell by coughing and looking down at his desk. "Well," he said quietly, "perhaps we will speak later?"

"Yes, we will," she promised, and departed, closing the door behind her.

Gabby approached Ser Smyth and Nathaniel, who were talking quietly a short distance from the office. "That went well," she remarked.

"Yes, very well indeed," Ser Smyth agreed. "Gabby," he said earnestly, "your presence here has truly been a blessing. What you have done for Knight-Commander Cullen during your stay has been nothing short of miraculous."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Gabby said modestly. "We've just talked, that's all. And this was all your idea, after all."

Ser Smyth shrugged his shoulders. "That may be so," he said, "but I doubt anyone else would have had such an effect on him. He still has difficulty interacting with the mages," he admitted, "but that is something I can work on. At least now, thanks to you, he is receptive to suggestions and reasoning."

Gabby grinned bashfully at his words. "I will meet with the two of you later," Smyth added, and bowed deeply to the Wardens, who returned his salute, before he departed in search of Bayard.

Gabby turned to Nathaniel. "Well done," she said with a grin. "You behaved yourself, as promised."

"He surprised me, actually," Nathaniel replied thoughtfully. "He seemed quite…equitable."

"I told you," Gabby reminded him. "He's a good man." Nathaniel looked at her sceptically, but remained silent. "I'm going to speak to those mages concerning your dagger," she whispered, "then I'll take Wren to see the tranquil. Shall we meet at say…lunchtime, in the dining hall?"

"Alright," he agreed. "I'll go and talk to the recruits. Just one thing, Gabby," he added. "Are you going to tell Wren we're leaving?"

"I've been thinking about that," she said quietly. "I think it would be best if we just left. I think that would be less upsetting for her than an emotional goodbye. Or would it be callous to do that? What do _you_ think?" she asked Nathaniel.

"I agree," he replied. "That would be the lesser of two evils. Besides, a child of her age will quickly forget about us. She'll be fine, Gabby," he assured her. He tilted his head slightly and looked at her closely. "Are you alright?" he asked.

"Yes, I think so," she replied. "It just feels strange to be saying goodbye to this place again."

"Well, it was your home for a long time," he answered. "It's only natural to feel that way."

"But I do miss the Keep," she said brightly, "and everyone there. I can't wait to get home."

"I am also anxious to return," he replied, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and giving it a squeeze. "I'm even beginning to miss Anders, Maker help me," he quipped.

Gabby laughed softly. "Then we had better get you home quickly," she declared. "That is a most disturbing development."

"Indeed it is," he concurred. "I'll see you later," he said, planting a kiss on her cheek.

"Lunchtime," she confirmed, as they parted ways.


	16. Goodbye, my friend

**My thanks as always to those of you who review, alert and favourite.**

**A huge acknowledgement and thanks to CCBug, for her significant contribution to the Cullen/Gabby scene. I was lost there for a while, but you showed me the way. Thank you!**

**Another huge thanks to Jen for her hard work in tidying up my ramblings!**

**~O~**

Gabby's first stop was the library, where she found the individual she had been hoping to see. He stood facing away from her, having backed a hapless female apprentice into a corner.

"You know," he slickly intoned to the bored-looking apprentice, "the lighting in here…" he began.

"Really brings out the colour of your eyes," Gabby finished.

He whirled around, outraged, and then upon spotting Gabby, broke into a sheepish chuckle. "Gabby!" he exclaimed, rubbing the side of his neck with his hand. "Or do I call you Warden-Commander? Arlessa? Hero of Ferelden, perhaps?"

Gabby rolled her eyes in embarrassment as the apprentice seized her chance and beat a hasty retreat. "Just Gabby will do," she said out of the side of her mouth. "Still using the same old lines, eh, Jerome?" she teased. "I remember you using that one on me, once."

"Yeah, and a fat lot of good it did me, too," he chuckled. "If I'd had ginger hair and wore heavy plate, then maybe…"

"Shh!" she interrupted, unable to contain her mirth.

"Anyway, you have to admit my lines were always better than Anders'," Jerome boasted. "He tried to crack onto you a few times, as well, didn't he?" he asked cheekily.

"He's still trying now," she replied, "and having just as much luck as he always did."

"That's right!" Jerome realised, snapping his fingers. "He's a Warden now, isn't he? Who would have thought it…" his smile faded a little and he shrugged his shoulders. "Anyway, Gabby," he said, "you must be a busy woman. What brings you to the 'lurve corner'?"

"Well," she said quietly. "I know you keep your ear to the ground," she began, to which Jerome nodded. "I was wondering if you'd heard of anything…untoward happening lately?" she continued.

Jerome looked intrigued. "Untoward?" he asked. "Such as?"

"Things going missing?" she ventured. "A Templar's master key coming into someone's possession, perhaps? Things of that nature."

Jerome frowned. "Has somebody pinched something from you?" he asked.

"Not from me," she answered. "From my friend, Nathaniel."

"Nathaniel? Is that the haughty-looking one with the long black hair?" he joked.

"That's him!" she laughed in reply. "He's lovely, really," she said with a smile, "once you get to know him."

"So what's gone missing?" he asked.

"One of his daggers," she replied. "He locked his door and went down to supper last night. When he returned, he started to clean and oil his weapons, as he does every night…"

"_Every _night?" Jerome interrupted.

"He really loves his weapons," Gabby explained with a shrug, "and he definitely locked his door. He has a pair of inscribed daggers, which all of the Wardens at Vigil's Keep presented him with on his last birthday," she continued. "They have sentimental value to him. I think he's actually quite upset about it," she said quietly, "but you'd never guess. I am more concerned with what somebody wants with a dagger – specifically, one of his."

Jerome shook his head. "I don't like the sound of that," he murmured. "Well, I haven't heard of any master keys going missing or being pilfered, or of anyone coming into possession of a dagger," he mused. "I know you haven't been here for long, Gabby," he said seriously, "but has your friend made any enemies whilst here?"

Gabby grasped the back of her neck and frowned. "Gabby?" he asked leadingly.

She sighed. "Well…he and the Knight-Commander have a…well, a clash of personalities, let's say," she mumbled.

"Cullen?" he whispered. "You do know he's a bit…unbalanced, now, don't you?" he asked warily.

Gabby's eyes flashed angrily. "Alright, alright…" he said calmly, holding his palms up. "I'm just trying to consider all options, that's all," he explained. "This is sounding like a Templar to me, you know. Who else could have entered his room?"

"What would a Templar want with a dagger?" she asked. "Have you seen the size of the swords they carry?"

Jerome sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Have you reported it missing, yet?" he asked.

"No," she replied.

"Why not?" he asked pointedly. "Even you suspect a Templar of stealing it - admit it, Gabby!" he said animatedly.

"But even if I did, that wouldn't make any sense," she protested.

"I don't like this one bit," Jerome said quietly, stroking his chin. "Let me make a few discreet enquiries," he offered. "Can I meet with you and your friend later on?"

"We're meeting in the dining hall for lunch," she stated.

"Perfect," he replied. "I'll find out what I can, and will meet you there," he promised.

"Thanks, Jerome," Gabby said genuinely. "I really appreciate this."

"No, thank _you_," he called as he headed away from her. "I love a good mystery!"

Gabby laughed softly to herself as she watched him exit the library, and then spotted a Templar strolling past. Although he wore a helm, his walk was very distinctive. Unable to resist, she glanced around, and pursed her lips, emitting a quiet wolf-whistle.

She smiled cheekily as the Templar span round, startled. He shook his head and looked from left to right, before allowing himself a chuckle.

"I always used to make you jump by doing that," she said as she took a few steps toward him.

"Yes, I remember," Cullen replied with amusement in his voice.

Gabby wondered if his relaxed demeanour was due to the fact he was wearing his helm, and she could not quite see his eyes. "Actually, I was hoping to bump into you," she said.

"Oh?" he murmured.

"Well, as I'll be leaving tomorrow," she began, taking a deep breath, "I wondered if we could have supper together later?"

"Oh," Cullen exclaimed softly. "I, um…don't eat in the dining hall."

"Where do you eat, then?" she asked.

"In my office, or in my quarters," he replied.

"On your own?" she asked, a little sadly.

"Oh, not always," he countered. "Sometimes Ser Smyth eats with me in the office."

"I see," she said quietly, realising how lonely Cullen must be. "Well, how about in my quarters, then?" she offered, almost certain he would refuse, but thinking it was worth a try.

"No," he said abruptly, and then softened his voice a little. "I-I don't think that would be proper," he stammered, and, although Gabby could not tell, he blushed beneath his helm.

"Oh, I wasn't suggesting anything…" she began, feeling guilty at having embarrassed him. She cleared her throat. "I just thought it would be nice for us to talk before I left, that's all," she said indifferently.

Cullen saw through her feigned insouciance and realised he'd hurt her feelings. He released a deep sigh and regarded her for a few moments. "I'll see," he said quietly. "I'm not making any promises, though."

"Do what you like," she said casually, and turned to leave. "I might see you later, then," she said as she walked away.

He watched her leave and sighed again. _So much for the helmet, _he thought, shaking his head.

~O~

Gabby sought out Dagna, and was relieved to hear that Wren had been very well-behaved while in her care. First taking the child for a stroll around the gardens to put her at ease, Gabby then took Wren to the Tower's stockrooms, on the second floor, to meet with the tranquil.

Before they entered, Gabby crouched down next to Wren and spoke. "We're going to meet some very special people now," she told the child. "They were once like us, but had their powers taken away from them."

A tiny wrinkle formed on Wren's brow. "Wha' for?" she asked.

"Well," Gabby explained, "some of them chose to have their powers removed." She paused for a moment to allow Wren to digest her words. "Others, however," she continued, "did not have a choice. You know the men who wear skirts?" she asked, to which Wren nodded. "They can take our powers away," she said calmly; she did not wish to unduly frighten Wren, but wanted the girl to understand the potential consequences of her recent actions.

"Why?" Wren asked quietly.

"If one of us does something dangerous," she began, "it makes people very scared. All of the people living here are friends, and they don't do things to scare each other," she explained. "The men who wear skirts are here to protect us, and to protect others _from _us," she continued. "If we do something dangerous, or hurt someone, they can take away our powers, and never give them back."

Wren stared at Gabby with wide eyes. "Do you remember what happened the other night, Wren?" Gabby asked. "When you set that girl's bed on fire?"

Wren hung her head and shrugged her shoulders. "Well, that was a very dangerous thing to do," Gabby said solemnly. "If ever you did anything like that again, they would take away your powers," she warned. "You don't want that, do you?"

Wren shook her head as her lower lip wobbled. "Come on," said Gabby, standing upright and taking Wren's hand. "Let's go and meet them."

The first thing that struck anyone upon entering the Tower's stockrooms was the pervasive silence, broken only on occasion by the soft swishing of robes, or the quiet clearing of someone's throat. No unnecessary conversation took place, and duties and tasks were carried out cleanly and efficiently. Unlike most other sections of the Tower, no laughter could be heard here; no bickering, quiet gossiping, whistling or humming – the background noises which everyone took for granted when in other parts of the Tower. A solitary Templar was stationed here, not to watch over the tranquil, as there was no need; but to watch over any harrowed mages or apprentices who entered.

Gabby had quite forgotten another sensation, felt only by mages and Templars, encountered when entering the stockrooms. As the tranquil were no longer able to use magic, no mana field emanated from them; the gentle, almost imperceptible thrum Gabby constantly felt against her skin whilst around other mages, was absent here. During her stay at the Tower, Gabby had once again become accustomed to that sensation, as she had when she had lived there, and its abrupt cessation evoked in her the feeling of being plunged into cold water.

Even Wren appeared disquieted as they entered; she held Gabby's hand tighter, and moved closer to her. Gabby was secretly pleased at this; she wanted the child to understand precisely what being tranquil meant.

Gabby approached the Tower's quartermaster, a man in his early forties with dark, slightly receding hair, named Owain. As a tranquil mage, he had never undertaken the Harrowing, yet wore the robes of a harrowed mage; and although no seniority structure existed amongst the tranquil, Owain was considered by many to be their senior member, although he certainly did not allow himself any such conceit.

"Good morning, Owain," Gabby greeted him. "How have you been since I last saw you?" she enquired.

"Good morning, Warden Surana," he replied blankly. "I am well. How are you?"

"I, too, am well," she replied. "Thank you for asking. I'd like to introduce you to Wren, a new apprentice at the Tower."

"How do you do, young lady?" Owain enquired, his face remaining expressionless as he looked down at the child. "I have heard much about you." Wren hid behind Gabby's leg.

"Oh, she's just shy, Owain," Gabby remarked. "Nothing personal, you understand."

"I am not offended," he replied calmly.

Gabby noticed Ser Smyth enter and approach Bayard, the Tower's tranquil enchanter. Smyth nodded at her in acknowledgement as he passed by; she nodded back. It struck her that even the Templars rarely spoke in here, and she realised she had been speaking in hushed tones when addressing Owain; whether this was due to fear of, or respect for, the tranquil, she was unsure.

"I was wondering if you had a few moments to spare," Gabby said to Owain.

"Yes," he replied succinctly in his almost hypnotic monotone. "What do you require?"

"Would you mind describing your experience as a tranquil mage to Wren, please?" she requested.

"No, I do not mind. I understand why you are asking me this," he answered, thankfully with none of the gravitas a non-tranquil would have imbued the reply with.

He began without preamble. "I was not a skilled apprentice," he began. "I feared my powers, and therefore was unable to maintain concentration long enough to cast a spell," he admitted. "My mentor attempted to delay the date of my Harrowing, fearing I was not prepared, but was unsuccessful."

Gabby realised, with some shame, that she had never had a proper conversation with Owain, and found herself curious about his life. "How did you feel about your Harrowing, Owain?" she asked.

"I was terrified," he confessed. "I remember sitting on my bed, alone, waiting to be called to the Harrowing chamber," he recalled. "So many dark and unpleasant thoughts raced through my mind," he said evenly. "I wept; I knew I was not strong enough to pass the Harrowing, and that I would die."

Gabby's mouth fell open at his admission; for the first time she truly understood that Owain was human, and that he once was as fragile and vulnerable as anyone else. Wren's lesson suddenly became of secondary importance to Gabby as she listened with genuine interest.

"What did you do?" she asked.

"I informed the Templar who came to collect me that I did not wish to undertake the Harrowing," he answered. "I informed him that I wished to undergo the Rite of Tranquillity. He told me that he was relieved, and that I had made the correct decision."

"What happened then?" asked Gabby.

"I was taken to the Harrowing chamber, as previously arranged," he recalled, "where a magical brand was applied to my forehead."

"What did they actually do to you, Owain?" she whispered.

"I am not permitted to speak of the actual procedure in detail," he replied.

"Oh…I'm sorry," she mumbled.

"There is no need to apologise," he said calmly, patiently awaiting her next question.

"How did you feel afterward, Owain?" she asked. "Were you relieved?"

"I did not feel relief," he responded. "I did not feel anything. The dark thoughts, the fear, the incessant chatter of different thoughts in my mind, were gone in an instant. It was as though I had been attempting to swim through mud, before," he related. "Everything was always dark and difficult. Then, immediately following the procedure, everything became easier. The waters were no longer muddied; they were crystal clear. I was free."

Gabby swallowed hard; she was astounded that such a profound statement could come from a man apparently free from emotion.

"Do you ever wonder if you should have attempted the Harrowing?" she asked with rapt interest.

"It would be pointless to wonder about that," Owain replied, "as it did not happen. I do not regret my decision to undergo the Rite of Tranquillity, if that is what you mean."

"But how could you regret it, anyway?" she wondered aloud.

"What you say is correct, Warden Surana," he answered. "I am not capable of feeling regret."

Gabby suddenly felt a sensation she could not explain, and felt ready to leave the stockrooms. "Thank you very much, Owain," she said, "for tolerating my questions. I, erm…I should let you get on with your work."

"You are welcome, Warden Surana," he replied. "Goodbye," and, with that, he turned away from her and resumed taking an inventory of some of the stock.

Wren started to fret, and whined as she tugged at Gabby's robe. "Shh!" Gabby intoned sharply, then took a deep breath and sighed. "Come on, then," she whispered, and took the child's hand.

As they exited, Gabby turned back for a moment and watched Owain calmly going about his duties, as she struggled to comprehend her feelings. Was it pity she felt? Guilt? Admiration? Envy, even? One thing she could be certain of, after speaking with Owain, was that the tranquil no longer held any fear for her. The two females exited the stockrooms; at least one of them having learned a vital lesson.

~O~

Gabby left Wren with Sybil and Ser Bailey, amidst much wailing and gnashing of teeth, as she headed to the dining hall to meet with Nathaniel and Jerome. Ser Smyth sought her out as she entered, and informed her that Wren's neutralisation collar would be ready before suppertime.

Nathaniel was already there, and sat at the end of one of the banqueting tables with four plates of beef stew and dumplings in front of him. A huge bannock loaf sat on a separate plate, with chunks ripped out of it.

"I hope two of those are for me," Gabby said, taking a seat opposite him, as she greedily eyed the plates.

"Of course," he replied as well as he could with his mouth full. Gabby laughed at him. "Wha'?" he mumbled.

"It just amazes me how your noble manners have taken such a nosedive since you took the Joining," she chuckled, and began to tuck into her stew.

He chewed for a few moments then swallowed. "What do I need manners for?" he asked with a frown. "There's only you here," he said cheekily, proceeding to belch loudly.

"Pig!" she scolded.

"Oh, Gabby, you're too kind," a voice spoke from behind her. She looked around to see Jerome licking his lips dramatically, as he took a seat next to her, and took one of her plates of stew for himself.

"Nathaniel, this is Jerome," Gabby said in introduction. The two men shook hands and nodded to one another. "Have you found anything out?" she asked the mage.

"I'm sorry Gabby, Nathaniel," Jerome replied ruefully. "Nobody knows a thing. Look," he said quietly. "There aren't that many mages in the Tower at the moment, as you know," he said to Gabby, "and I know them all pretty well. I have to say I don't think any of them would have the mind – or be stupid enough – to steal a dagger from a Grey Warden."

"You suspect a Templar, then?" Nathaniel asked.

Jerome shrugged his shoulders. "I really don't know," he replied. "But I'm almost certain it wasn't any of the mages or apprentices. Firstly, they would be immediately challenged by the Templars if they attempted to get onto the third floor."

"That is true," Gabby agreed.

"Unless they were allowed up there," Nathaniel ventured.

"There is that, I suppose," Jerome conceded. "Then there are the Senior Enchanters, who live on the third floor," he continued. "There are only two of them in the Tower at the moment, but both of them are so old, I suspect the strain of merely lifting a dagger would make their hearts give out."

"So, mages, unlikely, then," Nathaniel said with a mouthful of bread.

"Unlikely, yes," Gabby said. "Impossible, no."

"There are also the tranquil mages to consider," Jerome added, "although I'm clutching at straws, here – that really _is _unlikely. There are also a few civilian staff in the Tower, but they wouldn't get anywhere _near _the third floor," he reasoned.

"So, a Templar is looking more and more likely, then," Nathaniel said grimly.

"Let's not jump to conclusions," Gabby said quietly, fearing that the two of them, disliking Cullen, would suspect him.

"We're not, Gabby," Nathaniel reassured her. "We're just narrowing things down."

"You need to tell Smyth about this, Nathaniel," Jerome advised. "I know you won't be here for much longer, but Smyth is very well thought of by the other Templars, and may be able to get some information. I wouldn't go to Cullen, though," he warned. "He's _not_ so well thought of." Gabby stiffened and sighed. "I'm just stating a fact, Gabby," Jerome said quietly, and then lowered his voice to a whisper. "There are also 'the watchers' to consider. Only Cullen and Smyth know who they are, and Smyth is sure to go to them for potential leads."

Nathaniel looked puzzled. "I'm sorry…'the watchers'?" he asked.

Gabby placed a finger to her lips and leaned forward. "The Templars aren't aware the mages know about this," she whispered conspiratorially, "but two of the Templars in the Tower are infiltrators from the Chantry. They watch the other Templars for signs of impropriety. Now and again – not very often, mind you – one of the Templars will disappear."

Jerome nodded his head in agreement. "Some of us think they get transferred to a Chantry somewhere," he whispered, "but who knows what really happens to them?" Nathaniel opened his mouth and raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"'The watchers' – as we call them - are bound to know if any of the Templars have been up to anything suspicious," Gabby added.

"But who watches _them_?" Nathaniel asked astutely.

"They're supposed to be above suspicion," Jerome answered in a whisper. "They, erm…go to quite extraordinary lengths to show their loyalty to the Maker," he said with a slight grimace.

Nathaniel cocked his head and looked at Gabby. "They're eunuchs," she whispered.

Nathaniel looked back and forth between the two mages, searching for a hint of amusement in their faces. "You're having me on, aren't you?" he asked.

"No," Jerome replied, shaking his head. "It's true."

"No wonder they want their identities kept secret, then," Nathaniel said with a shudder. "Mind you," he added, "a man doesn't need his meat and two veg to steal something. If we're going to consider all personnel here, we have to consider them, too."

Jerome nodded his head. "Fair enough," he replied.

"How do you know all of this, anyway?" Nathaniel asked him.

"Jerome is…_friends_ with one of the Templars, aren't you, dear?" Gabby said dryly.

"People in glass houses shouldn't throw stones, _dear_," Jerome answered acidly, then smirked and winked at her.

"I'm assuming that your friend is not one of 'the watchers,' then?" Nathaniel asked Jerome with a lopsided grin.

"Definitely not," Jerome replied with a shrug. "He wouldn't be much use to me if he were, would he?"

Nathaniel snorted, and then looked up toward the door. "Here's Tristan," he said to Gabby. "I'll go and talk to him." He rose to his feet and offered his hand to Jerome. "Thanks for asking around," he said.

"Sorry I wasn't any more help than that," Jerome said apologetically as he shook Nathaniel's hand.

"I appreciate it, nonetheless," Nathaniel replied, and headed over toward Tristan, taking him to one side. Gabby and Jerome watched as Smyth's brow creased at Nathaniel's words; he then gestured toward the door, and he and Nathaniel exited.

"You know," said Gabby, "Smyth could be one of 'the watchers,' for all we know."

"No chance," Jerome replied with certainty. "He's Cullen's right-hand man, remember, and Cullen is still here. Smyth's done a lot of covering up for that man."

Gabby ignored his comment, and finished off her and Nathaniel's stew.

~O~

Later that day, Gabby went to see Sybil and Wren in their room on the third floor. Wren greeted her excitedly, and showed her the 'necklace' that Sybil had gifted her. Bayard had done a fine job; he had inlaid the collar, which was much thinner than its adult counterpart, with decorative filigrees of steel.

"It's beautiful!" Gabby remarked, and slowly moved her hand toward it. Wren watched her from the corner of her eye; pretending not to, and ran away, giggling, as Gabby made an unsuccessful attempt to grab it. "I think you'd better give that to me," Gabby said in a mock-threatening manner; Wren squealed and ran behind Sybil. Gabby breathed a huge sigh of relief; she knew that Wren had taken to Sybil, and felt much more at ease about her imminent departure.

After spending a little time with the two apprentices, Gabby bade them good evening – and, without stating it explicitly – goodbye, and returned to her own quarters.

Suppertime was approaching, and Gabby began to wonder if Cullen would have the nerve to show up. She paced her room a little, wondering what was going through his mind; and, realising that Cullen was probably tying himself in knots with worry over what to do, decided that she would go down to his office, and have supper with him there. There was nothing wrong with that, she reasoned – the Warden-Commander having a late supper with the Knight-Commander? Nothing wrong with that at all.

She retrieved a pouch of tea from atop her dresser – Cullen used to like her blend of tea – pocketed it, and headed to the door. Upon opening it, she gasped in surprise.

Cullen stood outside, glancing around nervously.

"Oh! Cullen…" Gabby exclaimed in surprise. "Would- would you like to come in?"

He nodded his head and hesitatingly entered her room. Gabby closed the door behind him. They stood a few feet apart from each other, neither of them quite knowing what to say.

"Erm…would you like a cup of tea?" Gabby offered at last.

Cullen reacted as though woken from a dream. "Oh, yes!" he blurted out. "I mean, yes, please," he said with a sheepish grin.

"Please, sit down," said Gabby. Cullen took a seat at the table while Gabby began to make some tea. She stood with her back to him, and, if he hadn't been so busy trying to steady his breathing, and stop his hands from trembling, he would have noticed the tension in her hunched shoulders.

_Is this how it's going to be? _she wondered. _Our last day together, spent being __**polite **__to each other?_ Gabby had meant to see Cullen alone before her departure, and had planned to say so many things to him, but now that he was here, and the perfect opportunity to speak had presented itself, her tongue had suddenly decided to cling to the roof of her bone-dry mouth.

Cullen, too, had practised his parting words to her over and over in his head, but realised despairingly that he could barely remember his own name at the moment, let alone the stirring and ardent words he had said to her in his mind. A sense of heaviness pervaded the room. They both felt it; a dense, claustrophobic ubiquity which neither of them cared to acknowledge.

"Here you are," Gabby said with false chirpiness, passing Cullen his tea. "Would you like an oatcake?" she offered.

"Oh, yes, thank you," he said gratefully. Chewing on an oatcake would at least fill in another minute or so where he didn't have to speak and risk making a fool of himself.

Gabby placed a small plate of the cakes on the table and sat opposite Cullen with her own cup of tea. "So, are you off-duty, now?" she asked inanely, knowing very well that he was; but deciding that any conversation would be preferable to awkward silence.

"Oh, yes, not long ago," he replied, taking a sip of tea, "although I'm never really off-duty, in a way," he said with a shrug. _Smalltalk, _he thought, scolding himself. _This is not what I came here for._

"What do you Templars do in your spare time, anyway?" she asked with a grin. "I've always wondered that."

He chuckled to himself. "Oh, you know, the usual Templar pursuits…reading, prayer, contemplation; occasional self-flagellation. The high life," he joked.

Gabby laughed delightedly to see a hint of the sense of humour she so loved in Cullen. "I would imagine the self-flagellation would come as a welcome change after all the praying and contemplation," she remarked.

He raised his eyebrows for a moment. "You'd think so, wouldn't you?" he replied. "But, no," he countered dryly. "It bloody hurts."

Gabby nearly choked on her mouthful of tea, and had to force it down her throat, before coughing violently. "Sorry!" Cullen exclaimed, desperately trying not to laugh, but failing miserably, and erupting into his trademark cackle.

"No, you're not!" she protested, "you did that on purpose!" The two of them dissolved into giggles; each time one of them attempted to compose themselves, they would be set off again by the other.

"It's so wonderful to see you laugh again," Gabby said at last, wiping a tear from her eye. "It's been so long."

Cullen stopped laughing, only a soft smile remaining on his lips. "Yes, I know," he said ruefully. "I…haven't been myself for a long time," he admitted, falling silent for a moment. He eventually straightened himself up and cleared his throat. "Gabby," he said softly. "I've come to say goodbye."

Gabby put her cup of tea down. "Oh," she mumbled, feeling icy hands run down her back and arms. "Alright."

"I-I know you're not leaving until the morning," he said, "but I thought you would probably be really busy, then, and…well, I…don't want to get in your way," he explained nervously. "So, I won't be there when you leave."

Gabby stared at the table and nodded her head. She knew he was lying about his reasons for not being there in the morning; she, too, had dreaded saying goodbye to him, especially in front of Nathaniel and the Templar recruits.

"I, um…" he murmured, looking down at his hands. "There were so many things I wanted to say to you, Gabby," he confessed. "I'm wondering now if it would be better for me not to say them at all; after all, I doubt we'll see each other again for a long time. Perhaps it would be better not to…" he hesitated, and then shook his head, lost for words.

They sat at opposite sides of the table, each an almost perfect mirror image of the other; shoulders hunched, hands clasped in front of them, gazes turned downward. Their tea sat redundantly, cooling to the side; their oatcakes remained untouched. "I know," Gabby whispered.

Cullen took a deep breath in order to steel himself. "I want to say how sorry I am," he said remorsefully, "for…for how I've treated you; for what I did to you."

"It's alright," Gabby began.

"No, it's not," he replied immediately. "You weren't responsible for what Uldred did…the way I treated you, after you saved me…" his voice lowered to a whisper, and he shook his head. "I can't believe what I did," he said as he looked up at her with moist eyes. "I-I'm sorry I made you cry, Gabby."

"You weren't yourself," she answered soothingly, picking up her cup, then placing it back on its saucer. "I don't hold you responsible for your actions, not after what happened to you."

He shook his head. "No, that's an excuse," he said sourly. "I _do _hold myself responsible. I knew exactly what I was doing. I thought I was right…I thought that all mages were capable…" he sighed and fell silent.

"You have to move forward, Cullen," Gabby urged. "It doesn't do to dwell on the past. You've been through what I can only imagine to have been a horrifying ordeal, and yet, you're still here," she said softly. "You came through it. Lesser men would have succumbed, but you didn't. And, while I know that your forbearance cost you greatly," she said, reaching a hand across the table, "you should commend yourself for your valour and fortitude." She touched Cullen's hand; he did not retract it. "I certainly do," she finished.

Cullen looked up at her with wide eyes as she stroked his hand. "But…some of the things I've done, Gabby…" he began.

"They were _not _your fault," she said firmly.

"No, since then, I mean," he said quietly. He remembered Magnusson, the Templar he'd flogged to death, and squeezed his eyes shut. "I…" he began, and then released Gabby's hand, rising to his feet and walking over to the window. She watched his shoulders rise and fall as he stood with his back to her, taking deep breaths. He shook his head and turned toward her, slumping onto the window seat and covering his face with his hands. Gabby stood and watched as his face and neck flushed red, and deep lines furrowed his brow. His hands began to tremble as he fought strenuously to master himself.

She walked over to him, hesitating for a moment, before reaching up to touch the back of his head. He flinched momentarily, but she did not remove her hand. As he gradually relaxed into her touch, she gently sat down beside him.

"Gabby, don't…" he choked, as she tried to prise his trembling hands away from his face. "Please," he spluttered, his mouth twisting as his arms and shoulders quaked. "I can't…" he began, before his resolve and strength, which had served him so well against Uldred, finally foundered in her loving presence, and he broke down, sobbing.

Gabby gently stroked through his hair and laid her head against his shoulder, taking one of his hands from his face and wrapping his arm around her waist. His other hand reached around and clasped her back as he wept into her hair. Neither of them knew how long they remained so; they stayed there long after Cullen had exhausted himself and stopped crying, simply coexisting; being as close as they could possibly be – as close as they were _allowed _to be.

"I wish you didn't have to leave," Cullen murmured softly at length. "You're the only thing that makes sense to me anymore."

"I know," she whispered, taking one of his hands and gently kissing it, "but we have our duty to do, don't we," she said blankly; her words hollow and flat as they left her mouth.

"Duty," Cullen repeated, not having the strength to impart the word with the venom he felt for it. He drew back slightly and looked at her, his eyes dull with sorrow and regret.

Gabby stroked his cheek with the back of her hand. "I think the Maker would forgive you one small transgression," she said, and, craning her neck, brought her lips up to his.

"Gabby…" he whispered breathlessly. "We, we…mustn't." His words and his thoughts were at odds with each other; what he felt he _should _do waged war with what he _wanted _to do.

"Shh," she whispered soothingly, and lightly brushed her lips against his; immediately she felt him stiffen and he abruptly drew away from her.

"I-I'm sorry," he stammered as he shook his head softly. "I…I want to, more than anything," he said desperately, "but, I-I just can't."

She looked up at him and saw his inner torment so clearly. His eyes were squeezed tightly closed; deep lines were carved onto his brow and between his eyes. His upper lip quavered as it bit down on the lower one. She moved close to him once again.

"No, Gabby…" he began, then fell silent and exhaled as she wrapped her arms around his neck and cradled him against her shoulder; her tender hand smoothing away his torment and ambivalence as it softly caressed his cheek. She kissed the top of his head, and, for one brief moment, he felt contentment.

_I don't deserve to feel this way._

"I-I really have to go, now, Gabby," he said throatily. "I _must _go."

She sat back and looked at him for a moment. Nodding her head slowly, she stood and proffered her hand. He took it and rose to his feet.

"This is it, then," she said weakly, staring at his breastplate.

"Will-will you write to me?" he asked hesitantly, "when you write to your mages?"

"Oh, of course," she answered, a glimmer of hope shining in her eyes as they met his. "Just try and stop me," she said with a gentle smile.

Cullen nodded once and looked toward the door. "I'd better go," he said quietly. "Thank you, Gabby, for everything…and goodbye," he whispered, reluctantly heading over to the door.

"Wait," she said, walking over to her dresser. She opened one of the drawers and rummaged around, taking something in her hand. She walked over to him and gestured for him to bend slightly. "This belongs to you," she said as she slipped something around his neck.

He stood back and touched it; a small silver star glinted against his fingers. "Your pendant," he murmured. "B-but…I can't take this…" he began.

"It's yours," she answered unsteadily, "as is my heart."

His brows knotted together and he nodded slowly, unable to speak. They moved closer together and gently embraced, and, afraid of where to place their hands, awkwardly moved apart from one another. Cullen stepped back and opened the door; he looked at her one last time, before bowing low and exiting, closing the door behind him.

Gabby exhaled shakily and wrapped her arms around herself. Walking over to the window, she turned her gaze eastward; the thought of home the only thing preventing her from breaking down.


	17. The circle of life

**I would like to say a huge thank you to everyone who has read, alerted or favourited this story, and to those of you who took the time to leave reviews; in particular those of you who review regularly - you have truly inspired me. I would also like to thank CCBug yet again for her help with Cullen & Gabby, and to Jen4306 for making this story readable and for an excellent edit of yet another monster chapter! Thank you!**

**And last but not least, thank you to Nithu for giving me such a wonderful idea in the first place!**

**~~O~~**

As darkness fell over Lake Calenhad, activity within the Circle Tower slowed. The apprentices, being younger on the whole than their harrowed kin, had already retired, and most of the mages and enchanters were settled in their rooms. The Templar night shift had taken over, and torches were extinguished throughout the Tower, leaving only a few still burning; a night like any other.

Another constant, as inevitable as the sunrise, was the Wardens' difficulty in sleeping; both Wardens in the Tower were awake long into the night. Although Nathaniel, being the organised one of the two, had packed earlier on in the day, he checked through his pack once again, ensuring he hadn't missed anything. He and Gabby still had a few dried rations remaining, which they would keep for emergencies. The Tower's cook had very kindly promised to prepare enough fresh provisions for a few days' travel in the morning, and he could hunt for food when supplies ran low. Food for their horses would be purchased at the stables next to the Spoiled Princess. He anticipated, with all being well, that they would reach Vigil's Keep in around a week's time.

The only thing Nathaniel had not yet packed was a small black case. He opened it and looked forlornly at the solitary dagger lying within, bereft of its partner. Ser Smyth had promised to thoroughly investigate its disappearance and bring any findings to him in the morning. The pair of daggers had been a birthday gift from the Wardens at Vigil's Keep.

He had been stunned when a celebration was thrown for him at the Keep a few months previously. He'd had no idea anyone at the Keep knew when his birthday was; he barely acknowledged it himself anymore. During his eight year tenure in the Free Marches he hadn't celebrated it once, and his birthdays at home were always a very dry affair; his father was never there, and his mother was too busy running the Arling to really notice him. A few Sovereigns were usually placed in trust for him to mark the occasion. _As though I needed them, _he reflected miserably.

He smiled fondly to himself as he remembered his first ever birthday party. He had been out on an early morning hunt in the woods to the west of Vigil's Keep. Although the Keep didn't need any extra meat, Nathaniel enjoyed hunting and would occasionally wander off for a few hours, after first informing Gabby. She noticed that he tended to do this when he was unsettled about something, and the solitude seemed to do him good. She guessed correctly that he would go hunting on the morning of his birthday – having gleaned that information from his sister, Delilah – and, as soon as he set off, she and the other Wardens sprang into action.

Upon his return, the guards at the gate bowed to him, and informed him that his 'subjects' awaited him within the Keep. Nathaniel made a mental note to have Anders pay them a visit, as they appeared to be suffering from some malady of the mind or blood. He entered the Keep, and turned a few hares over to the cook.

An ear-splitting cacophony came from behind him, and a bizarre sight met him as he turned around. Oghren, dressed in a shirt, singlet, pantaloons and tricorn hat, was making several tuneless attempts at playing a bugle he'd snatched from one of the Keep's wall displays. "Hear ye, hear ye!" Oghren proclaimed. "The Master of the house is here! Take up your positions!"

Nathaniel exited the kitchen into the dining hall, his mouth agape. Standing in a line in front of him were his fellow Wardens and Varel, all in fancy dress; the hall itself was festooned with banners and tapestries, and a large chair sat at the end of the dining table, draped in purple and gold fabric. His fellow Wardens bowed to him, and Gabby, who was dressed as a minstrel, walked over, took his arm and led him over to his 'throne'. A wooden crown – made by Samuel, the Keep's carpenter - was placed atop his head, although it was slightly too big for him, and kept slipping down over one eye.

They all took turns pledging fealty to the 'birthday King', each friend presenting him with a gift. Varel, who was dressed as a farmer – complete with an ear of corn sticking out of his mouth – gifted him a beautiful pair of steel bracers. Anders – whose simple costume of an old potato sack and a smear of mud across his face denoted him as the village idiot – gave Nathaniel a new, and very expensive, pair of archery gloves, after accusing Howe of being an embarrassment to the Warden Order, for constantly wearing his tatty old leather gloves.

The rest of the Wardens in turn gave him a gift, and then Gabby presented him with a magnificent pair of inscribed daggers with mother-of-pearl handles, in a black leather case. All of the Wardens had pitched in to buy them, and Gabby had crafted a fire rune upon one dagger, and a lightning rune upon the other. Nathaniel received them joyfully, and named them 'Aed' and 'Tintreach'.

Then they had games, songs, and a scavenger hunt. As captain of the hunt's losing side, Nathaniel was placed in the stockade and pelted with overripe tomatoes and eggs, although, upon Gabby's insistence, everyone had a turn. Finally, after cleaning up, they returned to the dining hall, where a boar was being spit roasted by the kitchen staff, and a wonderful night of feasting, dancing and celebration was had by all. After recovering from his initial bemusement, Nathaniel felt deeply touched and honoured that his friends had gone to so much effort to make his birthday so special.

Turning Tintreach over in his hand, Nathaniel no longer cared who had taken Aed, or why; he just wanted it back.

Gabby, too, was awake, but for different reasons. For one thing, she hadn't even thought about packing yet, and decided that now would be a good time to start. She didn't get very far, however, as her mind kept wandering. Although she was looking forward to going home, she was dreadfully worried that Cullen would revert to his old ways once she had gone, and when she thought of him, an ache bloomed within her; a yearning that she knew would never be assuaged. She had her duty and so did he; they simply were not meant to be together.

She reasoned that if she kept telling herself that, eventually she would believe it, and would be able to move on; but at that moment, alone in her room in the dead of night, it seemed a rather lofty ambition, and she found herself in a very dark and lonely place.

As though able to read her mind, Nathaniel knocked on her door and asked if she wanted some company. He helped her to pack, and they stayed up for a while talking and drinking tea, before the need for sleep finally overcame them, and they retired to their beds.

~O~

Nathaniel and Gabby stood near the main doors of the Circle Tower the following morning, which had been opened for their imminent departure. Gabby kept an eye out for their recruits, and Nathaniel stood quietly talking to Ser Smyth.

"I fear, Nathaniel, that my investigation has turned up nothing of note," Smyth said humbly, "but rest assured, I will not stop until your dagger is found, and the guilty party exposed."

Nathaniel nodded sadly and shook Tristan's hand. "I know you've done your best," he reassured Smyth.

"No," Smyth replied. "I am appalled that a distinguished guest such as yourself has been victim of such a reprehensible act. I am deeply ashamed," he said, shaking his head. "I will get to the bottom of this, Nathaniel," he vowed.

The two men walked over to where Gabby stood, waiting for the recruits to arrive. "Now, I must bid you farewell," Ser Smyth said with regret in his voice.

"It was an honour to meet you, Ser," Nathaniel said, shaking Smyth's hand again.

"The honour was mine, Nathaniel," Smyth replied.

"And I am proud to call you a friend, Tristan," Gabby said warmly as they shook hands.

Ser Smyth, touched, bowed his head deferentially. "I do hope you are able to visit again," he said to the Wardens. "You are always welcome here." He closed his eyes for a moment, and held his arm out toward them in blessing. "My hearth is yours, my bread is yours, my life is yours," he said softly, "for all who walk in the sight of the Maker are one."

He then stepped back and crossed his arms over his chest, bowing low. "May the Maker's blessings light your path, and guide you safely home," he said with a gentle smile.

Gabby and Nathaniel returned his bow, and they bade Tristan farewell.

"Very decent man," Nathaniel said in admiration as Smyth walked away. Gabby nodded in agreement, wiping a tear from her eye.

"What's taking them so long?" Nathaniel wondered aloud.

"If you mean your recruits, Warden," one of the Templars stationed at the door said, "I think they're in the chapel, praying for a safe journey, perhaps. They'll be along shortly."

"Ah," Nathaniel replied. "Thank you."

"Here comes someone, now," Gabby said as they heard the familiar swishing and clanking of Templar armour.

The Templars at the doors straightened up as their Knight-Commander approached. "Ser," they addressed him in unison. Gabby stood rooted to the spot; she had not expected to see him this morning.

"Dismissed," Cullen said curtly. The two Knights bowed and retreated around the corner. Cullen glanced at Gabby. "Warden-Commander, a moment please?" he asked and stepped outside, not waiting for her answer. Gabby and Nathaniel followed, unsure of what to expect.

Cullen looked at Nathaniel, who stepped back and glanced away from them. Cullen then retrieved something from his pocket and gripped it tightly for a moment as he stared at his hand. "I, um, I wanted to give you something," he said softly. "If you will accept it from me, that is."

"What is it?" Gabby asked curiously.

"This," he replied, opening his hand. Coiled in his palm was a small silverite idol, hung on a thin leather strap.

"A necklace?" she asked brightly.

"In return for yours," he replied with a soft smile, holding it up in front of Gabby. "This is Andraste," he explained, pointing to the idol. "May she protect and keep you on your journey home, and ever afterwards."

Gabby took the necklace from him and admired it for a moment. "Thank you," she whispered. "I will treasure it."

Cullen nodded slightly, and stepped back. Gabby watched as he sighed and looked up at the sky for a moment, then at the ground, and sensed he was unsure of himself. His gaze returned to her, and together, they looked down at her hands, at the idol shining in the sunlight.

"I'm pleased you like it," he mumbled, and shifted uneasily under her gentle stare. "Don't forget, you promised to write to me," he reminded her.

She grinned and agreed. "I hadn't forgotten," Gabby whispered, her thumb idly stroking the symbol of the Maker's bride.

"Well, then," he replied. "Have a safe journey, Gabby. You will be missed." Cullen bowed to her and began walking away before she could respond.

Gabby watched him depart, her heart aching at the unspoken words in their good bye. She opened her hand, and again looked down at the face of Andraste.

From the corner of her eye, she spotted Cullen come to a halt, and heard a heavy sigh. Gabby's head snapped up as he strode back to her, and she gasped as his arms encircled her waist.

"C-Cullen?" she stammered, both thrilled and shocked to be in his embrace.

"Gabby," he whispered, then pulled her against him, as he lowered his mouth to hers.

She felt her knees liquefy as their lips finally met; the passion they had both so dutifully suppressed acknowledged for the first time. Lost in him, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him deeper in, and his arms tightened around her slender waist. His kiss was as sweet and tender as she had always known it would be, but the urgency of it, unexpected and overwhelming. Moaning softly, Gabby prayed it would never end.

He pulled away from her suddenly, breathless and red-faced. Gabby, thrown by the abrupt end, and desperate to feel his touch again, stepped closer, but he retreated. He hung his head, although his expression was not one of shame, but of bashfulness. A shy grin crept along his lips, and he sheepishly looked up at her. "You will write?" he asked softly.

She smiled and nodded mutely, before Cullen stepped away quietly. With one last stolen glance at her, he turned and quickly walked back inside.

Gabby stared after him, breathless, her fingers touching her lips, the feel of his kiss still on them. She hardly noticed when Nathaniel appeared beside her.

"Are you going to put that on?" he asked.

"Uh?" she mumbled blankly.

"The necklace," he said. "Are you going to put it on?"

Gabby looked up at him. "What, no smart comments?" she asked. "No disapproving stares?"

"What good would that do, now?" he asked softly, taking the necklace from her and slipping it around her neck.

Gabby sighed and rubbed her forehead. "I'm sorry," she said quietly.

"Look, why don't you go across the Lake now, while I round up the Templars?" he suggested, sensing her need for solitude. "Kester can't take all of us across at once, anyway."

"Yes, alright," she mumbled. "I'll get the horses ready."

Nathaniel watched as she walked away in a daze, gently clutching the idol of Andraste in her hand. He shook his head and walked back inside.

~O~

Cullen headed straight up to his quarters on the fourth floor, locked his door, and sat by his window. From here he had a full view across to the Lake's northern shore, and, on a clear day, the Spoiled Princess could be seen; today was such a day. He watched as the previously idle Kester became animated and walked toward the Tower, out of Cullen's view; after a few moments, Kester reappeared, carrying various items which he stowed on his boat.

Cullen leaned forward and sighed as Gabby appeared, carrying a few more items. Kester assisted her with them, and then helped her onto the boat. As they got underway, Gabby turned around to face the Tower, and sat with her knees drawn up, resting her chin on one of her hands. Cullen wondered if she was looking up at the fourth floor, and thought of waving from the window, then immediately changed his mind, thinking it too maudlin. His stomach knotted as Kester bore her further away from him, and she became smaller with each moment that passed. "May Andraste keep you safe, Gabby," he said softly to himself. "I…"

_I love you._

A knock at his door jarred him from his musing. He groaned to himself and stood up. _This had better be good, _he thought angrily as he unlocked the door and opened it.

"Yes?" he asked in surprise. "What do _you_ want?"

~O~

After six days and nights of travel, Gabby, Nathaniel and the Templar recruits finally arrived at Vigil's Keep. Gabby could not contain her excitement as Varel strolled out to greet them. She dismounted her horse and ran over to him, ignoring his proffered hand, and wrapped her arms around him. "I've missed you, Varel!" she chirped.

Varel chuckled softly to himself and patted her shoulder. Realising he was embarrassed, she released him and they shared a smile. "It is good to have you home, Commander," he said as the men dismounted and approached them.

Nathaniel shook Varel's hand, and then introduced him to the Templar recruits. "Come on," Nathaniel said to them, realising that Gabby and Varel had things to discuss. "Let's get the horses stabled, and then I'll give you a tour of the Keep."

Gabby nodded gratefully to Nathaniel as she and Varel took a walk. "Templars, Commander?" he asked curiously. "I'm surprised, to say the least."

"I'll bet," she said with a grin. "The Knight-Commander could not spare any mages at the present time," she explained, "but apparently there were plenty of Templars to go around, and Nathaniel and I didn't want our trip to be wasted."

Varel grunted softly. "How soon would you like to perform the Joining?" he asked, wasting no time.

"I was thinking of tomorrow morning," she answered.

"Why the delay?" Varel asked with a frown.

"Well, they've spent most of their adult lives cooped up in a Tower," she explained, "which I can identify with. I thought it would be nice for them to let their hair down a little, if only for one night."

"As you wish, Commander," Varel replied evenly.

"You disapprove, don't you?" she guessed.

Varel halted and sighed. "Not exactly, Commander," he replied. "I just don't think it's a good idea to become overly familiar with the recruits before their Joining."

"Normally, I would agree, Varel," Gabby answered, "but it's already too late for that. Nathaniel, in particular, spent a lot of time with the recruits. In a place like the Tower, it can't be avoided."

He nodded. "Fair enough, Commander," he replied. "Who will perform the Joining?"

"Nathaniel and I, as usual," she answered.

"Very good, Commander," he replied. "I will make the necessary arrangements."

"Thank you, Varel," she said warmly as they walked toward the Keep. "Where is everyone?" she asked with a frown. "I thought Anders might have come out to greet us."

"Anders buggered off somewhere when he saw the Templars ride through the gate," Varel replied with a hint of mischief in his voice, "as did the other mages."

"Ah," Gabby chuckled. "So you didn't warn him, then?"

"Indeed I did not, Commander," Varel said solemnly, "as per your written instructions. The guilt has nearly torn me apart."

Gabby threw her head back and laughed. "Did I tell you I've missed you, Varel?" she asked brightly, slipping her arm around his as they headed toward his office.

~O~

The Templars' tour of the Keep began in the dining hall, as Nathaniel was famished. "This is where we spend most of our time," he told the Templars. "Look around; I'll get us some food."

The Templars glanced around in astonishment at the huge hall and suddenly felt quite small and insignificant, having been accustomed to the more intimate and sometimes claustrophobic feel of the Circle Tower.

"Look at _this!" _Conn exclaimed as the other Templars joined him in one of the corners of the hall.

"What _is _that_?" _Ser Richardson asked with his mouth hanging open. Nathaniel glanced over and suppressed a chuckle, watching with amusement to see what would happen.

"Where did this come from?" Ser Bailey called over to Nathaniel.

"Honnleath," he answered, biting his lip to stop himself from laughing.

"BOO!" a preternatural voice boomed throughout the hall; the Templars scattered in disarray and fled through the exit. Panicked cries of "Maker preserve us!" could be heard from around the corner.

When Nathaniel had stopped laughing, he called the Templars back into the hall. "It's alright," he reassured them, "you're quite safe." As the Templars warily re-entered the hall, Nathaniel introduced them to Shale.

"More men in frocks, I see," Shale remarked pithily as the Templars hesitantly approached. "They _do _appear to be mage-killers, however. I must say, I approve."

"It-it can _talk?" _Conn gasped in astonishment.

"It can indeed, mage-killer," Shale replied. "My, it _is _a bright one, isn't it?" she said to Nathaniel. "Does it follow commands and perform tricks, as well? I _have_ been meaning to acquire a pet…"

"Don't mind Shale," Nathaniel said to a dumbstruck Conn. "She has a very dry sense of humour."

"_She?" _the Templars gasped.

"Yes," Shale replied superciliously. "Kindly address all formal requests to court me to the black-haired Warden. It does not take kindly to cads and scoundrels seeking to take advantage of me."

"It most certainly does not," Nathaniel said seriously, folding his arms, and then burst out laughing at the expressions on the Templars' faces. "I think you lot had better sit down," he said, pulling a few chairs out and inviting the dazed Knights to sit. "You'll get used to things around here," he said encouragingly. "Either that, or you'll go insane." Conn and Richardson laughed; they had become used to Nathaniel's sense of humour. Willoughby and Bailey looked a little pale.

"We'll have some food, and then I'll show you to your quarters," said Nathaniel. "I suspect you've had enough touring for one day."

~O~

Gabby emerged from Varel's office a little later, her head spinning from the sheer amount of work the two of them had to do tomorrow. Nathaniel, having left the Templars to settle into their quarters, went to fetch her some tea; he recognised that look on her face.

"Hey, shorty!" yelled an ebullient voice from the end of the hall.

"Anders!" she cried, overjoyed to see her friend striding over. Tears spilled from her eyes as his long arms enveloped her. "Oh, I've missed you so much!" she mumbled against his shoulder.

Nathaniel watched the exchange impassively, until he noticed the smile fade from Anders' face, and the sudden tension in the mage's body. Anders' eyes met his; Nathaniel frowned heavily and nodded his head upward. _What's wrong?_

Anders pulled back and at once affected a jovial expression. "You nearly put me in the ground, Gabby, when I saw those Templars riding in through the gate!" he chirped, although his voice had a hard edge to it. "I thought they'd finally come for me, and so did the other apostates!"

"Sorry, Anders," Gabby said wearily.

"Had an interesting time at the Tower, eh?" he asked softly, brushing a tear from her cheek. "Well," he said, leading her away from where Nathaniel stood. "Why don't we sit down, and you tell me all about it?"

"I have to unpack my things," Gabby said quickly, patting Anders' chest with her hand. "Maybe later, hm?" she replied, and headed out of the hall, with Anders' eyes never leaving her.

Anders walked over to Nathaniel. "What's happened, Nate?" he asked, his voice uncharacteristically stern.

"What do you mean?" Nathaniel replied quietly.

"Don't give me that!" Anders snapped, taking Nathaniel by surprise. "How is it that she's returned from the Tower…" he paused and took a deep breath. "Something happened there, didn't it?"

"What's wrong, Anders?" Nathaniel asked sharply.

"Never mind…" Anders mumbled. "I'll ask Gabby, instead."

"I wouldn't advise that at the moment, Anders," Nathaniel warned. "She's tired, and needs some rest."

"I _bet_ she's tired," Anders retorted. "What happened at the Tower, Nathaniel?" he asked again, "between the two of you, I mean."

Nathaniel looked confused. "I don't know what you're getting at, Anders," he said irritably.

Anders looked at him doubtfully. "Whatever you say," he said, and began to walk out of the room.

"Where are you going?" Nathaniel asked sternly.

"Up to see Gabby," Anders replied as he headed toward the stairs. Nathaniel groaned to himself and followed.

Anders reached Gabby's door and hesitated for a moment, glaring at Nathaniel as he caught up. Anders knocked on her door; it opened, and she peered around it, looking tired and upset. "Gabs," Anders said softly, "can I speak to you for a moment?"

She nodded and gestured for him to enter. "In private," Anders said firmly as Nathaniel followed him in.

"I'm here to make sure you don't keep her too long, or get her to do something stupid to 'cheer her up'," Nathaniel answered.

"Don't you ever get tired of knowing what's best for everyone?" Anders said angrily. "Sod off, Howe, and leave us in peace!" he said with uncharacteristic rancour.

"Will you two stop bickering?" Gabby said exasperatedly. "I'm very tired, and I don't need this!" She sighed and her tone softened. "What's wrong, Anders?" she asked the mage. "Why are you so upset?"

Anders paced back and forth for a moment, and then looked at Gabby as she sat down on her bed. "I really have to speak to you in private, Gabby," he insisted, glancing at Nathaniel, who stood his ground and folded his arms.

"Look," Gabby said wearily. "The two of you are like brothers to me, and I don't want you fighting. Anders, you're obviously upset about something, so just tell me. You know I'll tell Nathaniel, anyway."

"But, this is…_personal_," Anders said anxiously. Nathaniel's eyes narrowed and his face hardened as he looked at the mage.

"It's alright, Anders," Gabby reassured him. "I have no secrets from the two of you. You both know everything about me. Just tell me."

Anders glanced at Nathaniel, then back at Gabby, anxiety etched on his face. He sighed heavily, closed the door and then sat on the bed next to her. "Gabby," he said quietly. "I want you to brace yourself."

She looked at him in alarm. "What?" she exclaimed. "Just tell me!"

Anders closed his eyes for a moment and then looked at her. "You're with child, Gabby," he said heavily.

Nathaniel covered his face with his hands and turned away. Gabby was stunned into silence for a moment. She turned to Anders, her face a mask of confusion. "A-are you sure?" she stammered.

Anders nodded solemnly. "Yes, Gabs," he said softly, taking her hand. "No doubt about it, love."

The three of them were silent for a while. Gabby stared into space; Anders watched her with a concerned expression, and Nathaniel paced back and forth, his practical side coming to the fore as he began to make plans. Eventually, Gabby broke the silence.

"Anders," she began hesitantly, "how soon after conception can you tell…"

"I'm sorry, I don't know," he replied with an apologetic shrug. "Some healers can tell immediately; others, not until weeks afterwards." He turned to her and spoke softly. "How long ago were you last _with _the King?" he asked cautiously. Nathaniel stopped pacing and listened intently.

"Erm," Gabby mumbled as she thought for a moment. "Maybe six weeks ago? Yes, just under six weeks ago," she confirmed.

"That's probably about right," Anders replied. "That's around the average time that most healing mages can detect the presence of an unborn child."

"But you said that some can sense it immediately?" Nathaniel interjected, his question loaded with meaning.

"No, I didn't sleep with Cullen, Nathaniel!" Gabby snapped. "That's what you mean, isn't it?"

"_Cullen_?" Anders asked in astonishment. "But…I thought the two of you…"

"What?" Nathaniel shouted at the mage. "How dare you suggest such a thing?"

"Look, I'm sorry!" Anders protested. "All I know is that Gabby returned from the Tower pregnant! What else was I supposed to think?"

"There were several other things you could have thought, Anders!" Nathaniel said angrily.

"Stop it!" Gabby cried. "Both of you!" Her shoulders trembled and she covered her face with her hands as sobs wracked her body.

"Oh, Gabs…" Anders whispered, wrapping his arm around her shoulder.

She broke free and stood up, her face drained of all colour. "I'm one of _those _women, now, aren't I?" she cried. "An unmarried mother, carrying a child the father will never acknowledge, or have anything to do with," she sobbed. "A common trollop, that's what I'll be seen as!"

Nathaniel and Anders exchanged sorrowful expressions. "No, my dear," said Nathaniel, pulling her into an embrace as he tried to reassure her. "You will never be one of those women."

"B-but my child will be a bastard," she whimpered. "I-I never wanted that…" she thought of Alistair, and how his upbringing had affected him.

Anders rose from the bed. "I'm going to Amaranthine," he declared, opening the door.

"What?" Nathaniel exclaimed furiously, loosening his grip on Gabby. "_Now? _What in the Maker's name is _wrong _with you?"

"I need some fresh air," Anders replied caustically, with a withering glare at Nathaniel as he left the room.

"Excuse me for a moment," Nathaniel said to Gabby, following Anders out of the room. "Now, look here!" he shouted at the mage.

Anders turned around to face him and placed his hands on his hips. "What!" he snapped.

"You came up here, all full of concern for your friend," said Nathaniel as he glowered at the mage, "and now you're sodding off to Amaranthine to drown your sorrows because things are getting a little upsetting? Well how do you think _she _feels?" he yelled. "What kind of friend are you, anyway?"

"You don't know what you're talking about, Nate!" Anders spluttered, his face reddening.

"For the last time, my name is _Nathaniel!"_ he bellowed.

"Oh, and don't we all know it!" Anders sneered. "You can't go anywhere without _Nathaniel _sticking his nose in, or _Nathaniel _giving his unwanted opinions on everything! You sanctimonious git!"

"If you're going to use big words, Anders," Nathaniel spat, "at least be sure of their meaning first!"

"Alright!" Anders yelled, his eyes wide with fury. "Here's one I _do _know the meaning of – _arseholes!"_ With that, he turned on his heel and stormed away.

"Anders, come back here at once!" Nathaniel shouted.

"Piss off!" he yelled in response.

The two men jumped as Gabby slammed her door closed. She trudged over to her bed and collapsed onto it, staring up at the ceiling. She could hear the sound of quiet talking at the end of the corridor, and could tell it was Nathaniel and Anders, but couldn't make out what they were saying. _At least they've stopped yelling_, she thought. Eventually the talking stopped, and a quiet knock sounded at her door.

"Is there any point in telling you to go away?" she asked the door.

"No," Nathaniel replied, cautiously opening it. "Gabby…I'm sorry about that," he said humbly. "We're all a little upset."

"Don't be too hard on him," she said. "You know what he's like; when he's upset, he hides it with humour. When he's really upset, he takes off for a bit. He'll be back."

Nathaniel grunted softly, his anger at Anders apparently diffused. "I'm going to take up your duties for the rest of today," he declared. "You should get some rest. I'll go and see what Varel has for me."

"Thanks, Nathaniel," she said quietly. "You can tell Varel," she added, "but no one else. Not even the other Wardens for now."

"Alright," Nathaniel replied with a nod. "Do you need anything?"

"No thanks," she answered. "Just to be left alone for a while."

"I'll call on you later, if that's alright?" he asked. Gabby nodded, and Nathaniel closed the door behind him.

~O~

Anders returned from Amaranthine several hours later, and caught Nathaniel's eye as he strolled through the main hall. Nathaniel approached him. "I'm going up to see Gabby, now," Anders declared.

Nathaniel extended his hand. "Well done, Anders," he said as the mage shook it. "I'm proud of you," he added. "If that means anything to you, that is."

Anders grinned wryly, and, without another word, went upstairs to Gabby's room. He paused outside her door, and, taking a deep breath, knocked on it.

"Come in," she answered.

Anders entered to find Gabby sitting in a chair, reading a book. "Hello, Gabs," he said sheepishly, wringing his hands.

"Oh, Anders, you're back!" she said with a grin, putting her book down and rising from the chair. "Are you alright?" she asked.

"_Me?" _he asked incredulously. "Are _you _alright?"

She snorted and shrugged her shoulders. "It's a case of having to be, isn't it?" she replied.

Anders closed the door. "Gabs," he began ruefully, "I'm really sorry about earlier…about the quarrel, and me pissing off like that…I…" he faltered.

"Well, you're here, now," she said with a warm smile, "that's the main thing. Did you get anything nice in Amaranthine?"

Anders cleared his throat noisily. "Erm, yes…" he mumbled. "Sit down a minute, Gabs," he requested.

"Oh no, not more bad news," she mumbled.

"No…well, I hope not," he replied. "Just…sit for a minute, please."

Gabby complied with his request and sat back down in her chair. Anders knelt down in front of her. Taking a very deep breath, he retrieved something from his pocket. "I bought this," he said, handing her a small wooden box.

"What is it?" she asked with a frown.

"Open it," he said softly.

Their eyes met for a moment, and Gabby's mouth fell open. "A-Anders?" she stuttered, her hands shaking.

"Open it," he repeated.

"I-I can't," she said as a tear spilled down her cheek. "My hands are shaking too much."

Anders took the box and opened it, turning it toward her; she immediately burst into tears. "You'll never be that kind of woman, Gabby," he said tenderly. "I won't allow it. You'll have a husband, and your child will have a father."

"I…" she began, but was unable to speak further.

"If you'll have me, that is," he said.

Gabby leaned forward and buried her face in his neck, sobbing and trembling. Anders smiled softly. "Is that a yes?" he asked hopefully. Gabby nodded, still unable to speak. Anders gently pulled away from her, smoothing away her tears with his thumbs.

"Anders," she whispered hoarsely, "I don't know how I'll ever be able to thank you for this…I can't believe you'd…" she halted as fresh tears fell.

Anders grinned. "Well," he said chirpily. "Just think of all the benefits for me! I get someone to warm my slippers and fetch my pipe," he joked, "and a beautiful girl on my arm, to boot! It's no hardship, trust me."

Gabby laughed through her tears, and then her expression turned serious. "Anders," she said, taking his hands, "you know I'd never try to stop you from seeing other women…"

"Well, let's not think about that for now," he replied awkwardly. "We need to get you married!"

"But how, Anders?" she asked anxiously. "Who's going to marry two mages?"

"It's all arranged," Anders said proudly. "We're heroes in Amaranthine, after all, and have a lot of influence there. I spoke to the Revered Mother. After a little arm-twisting, and a promise of a large tithe, she reluctantly agreed."

"Really?" Gabby asked with an awed expression.

Anders nodded. "Of course, she'd never allow two filthy mages to sully her precious Chantry," he said dryly. "She said she'd do it here. The old cowbag will probably have her fingers crossed behind her back the whole time," he said with a grin, "but I don't care. I've just got to let her know the date. I didn't want to take it for granted."

Gabby gazed sadly at him for a moment. "Anders, you really are the sweetest, kindest, most wonderful…"

"Oh, no!" Anders chuckled. "Not more crying!" He laughed as he brushed away more of Gabby's tears.

"You'd better get used to it," she said with a shrug. "I am with child, after all. It comes with the territory, I hear."

Anders rolled his eyes and tutted. "Great," he mumbled. "Nine months of blubbering," he said with a cheeky wink. "I'll help you through it," he promised. "We'll get a sister from the Chantry to help with the birth, though."

"No, Anders," she said resolutely. "I want you to be there. If…you'd be willing, that is," she said hesitantly. "There's nobody I would trust more to deliver my child."

Anders raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Well, I'm touched, really," he mumbled. "Yes, of course I'd be willing. You do realise, though…" he faltered for a moment and cleared his throat.

"What?" she asked.

"Well, I _would _have to…look at your…_bits_," he said with an anxious grimace.

Gabby burst out laughing. "I think that will be the last thing on my mind at the time, Anders!" she exclaimed.

"True," he replied with a boyish grin. "So, it's a 'yes', then?"

Gabby nodded and pulled Anders into a hug. "Yes," she whispered. "Thank you so much."

Anders sat back and took the ring out of the box. "No need to thank me, Gabby," he said. "I should be thanking you. I owe my life to you. This is the least I can do to repay you."

Gabby held her hand out to him, and he slipped the veridium band onto her finger. "Good guess!" he exclaimed. "It fits pretty well!"

"How does yours fit?" she asked.

"Mine," he said flatly, his face dropping suddenly. "Erm…"

"You did buy _yourself _a ring, didn't you?" she asked in astonishment.

Anders' hand flew to his mouth as the two of them dissolved into fits of laughter. "I was so nervous about buying yours, I completely forgot!" he laughed. "You do realise," he warned her, "that you've just agreed to marry a complete prat?"

"That's nothing," she countered. "You've just agreed to marry a common trollop."

"Well, we should make quite the pair, then!" he chirped. "When I…acquire a ring, that is," he added dryly.

"Anders," Gabby began, "I know you're not doing this for romantic reasons, but I feel I should tell you about Cullen," she said. "You have a right to know."

Anders nodded. "Alright," he replied as he rose to his feet and pulled another chair over next to Gabby's. "Go ahead," he said as he sat down.

~O~

As the Wardens, Templars and some of the Keep's staff sat down to supper that evening, the entrance doors to the dining hall were pushed open by one of the Silver Order's Knights. "Please, forgive the intrusion, Commander," he said to Gabby with a sweeping bow. "A contingent from the Circle Tower has arrived, and its leader is demanding to speak with you."

"The Circle Tower?" Gabby exclaimed. "They…they must have departed just after us," she mumbled. "What do they want?"

"I'll handle this, Commander," said Nathaniel, rising to his feet. Before Gabby could protest, five heavily-armed Templars swept into the room. Nathaniel held his hand up and approached them. "Whom do I have the honour of addressing, Ser?" he asked their leader.

"I am Knight-Lieutenant Ambrose, of the Circle Tower of Ferelden," he said with a bow. "Might I know your name, Ser?" he asked.

"What brings you to Vigil's Keep, Knight-Lieutenant?" Nathaniel asked, evading the question.

"We are here for Warden Howe, Ser," Ambrose said officiously. "You are required to turn him over to us."

Gabby stiffened in her seat. "What do those skirt-wearing freaks want with him?" Oghren whispered to her. She shook her head silently as a feeling of cold dread gripped her.

"And what do you want with him?" Nathaniel asked calmly.

"You've no need to trouble yourself with that, Ser," Ambrose replied. "I must insist that Howe be released into our custody, immediately," he said with a hint of menace in his voice.

Ser Willoughby stood up. "What's this about, Ambrose?" he asked the leader of the Templar group.

"This is Tower business, Meredith," Ambrose replied airily. "Nathaniel Howe!" he called loudly. "You will make things easier for yourself if you come willingly!"

Gabby stood and walked to Nathaniel's side; every man at the table stood with her, many of whom moved their hands to their weapons. "I am Warden-Commander Surana," she declared, "and I can assure you that Warden Howe is going nowhere until you explain yourself. What do you want with him?"

"This is a serious matter, Warden-Commander," Ambrose said haughtily, moving his hand to the pommel of his sword. "I strongly advise you to co-operate with us and release Howe into our custody. _Now_," he said firmly.

Ser Ambrose's eyes scanned the hall as the sound of several swords being unsheathed was heard. "No, Ser Knight," Gabby countered. "I would advise _you _to co-operate with _us_. You are heavily outnumbered. State your business or get out."

Ser Ambrose grumbled to himself and turned toward one of his men, who produced a scroll. "This," he said as he handed it to Gabby, "is an arrest warrant. We do not have to co-operate with you at all. Now where is Howe?"

"An arrest warrant?" Gabby exclaimed as she opened the scroll. "For what?"

"For the murder of Knight-Commander Cullen," Ambrose replied.

**~To be continued~**

_This story is continued in a sequel, called 'In Blackest Envy'. I thought about just continuing with the story, but it's going to take quite a different direction, so I thought a sequel to be more appropriate. I hope you'll enjoy it :)_

_I'd also like to shamelessly promote another new story - a collaboration between another author - CCBug - and I, entitled 'Nobility Has Another Meaning'. Starting 20 years before the events of Awakening, a young Robert Varel is proud and honoured to become Seneschal to Arl Rendon Howe - until he realises how twisted and paranoid his master is. Varel does everything within his power to protect and aid Howe's victims - the most deeply affected being the Arl's young family, whom Varel comes to care for a great deal. Eventually the Howe family is torn apart by the Arl's madness, and Varel demoted, losing touch with those he swore to protect. A chance reunion with Howe's son, Nathaniel, several years later, gives Varel hope that he can fulfil his promise to Nathaniel's mother - but will the bitter and deeply wounded Nathaniel accept Varel after all this time, or lash out at him? And can Varel get through the shades of Rendon Howe he can still see in Nathaniel, and reach the young boy he used to know and care for? It's published under CCBug's pen name, and I really hope you'll be able to take the time to have a quick read, and let us know your thoughts. Thank you!_


End file.
